


of vipers and doves

by iwritetopassthetime



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Breeding, Canonical Character Death, Childbirth, Cunnilingus, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Love Confessions, Loving Marriage, Mentions Of Rape And Violence Against Women, Pregnancy, Revenge, Riding, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vaginal Sex, mentions of family abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 50,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29755038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwritetopassthetime/pseuds/iwritetopassthetime
Summary: Lady Y/N always dreamed of marrying for love, but coming from an old Westerosi family meant that love was never in the cards for her. However, fate seemed to smile her way once her betrothal to Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne came to be.
Relationships: Oberyn Martell/Reader, Pedro Pascal/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

**To read the Tumblr version >> [click here](https://iwritetopassthetime.tumblr.com/post/643121164119621632/of-vipers-and-doves-oberyn-martell-x-reader)**

* * *

The Sea of Dorne crashed against the rocks on which Silverwood castle stood with its mighty walls and elongated towers. The white stone was warming up in the late spring sun and the numerous sea shells that had stuck to it throughout the ages glistened like metal plates in the light. Gulls circled above the castle, squawking and diving down beneath the surface of the dark and troubled waters.

Along the tight shoreline walked a single lady. Dressed in a green silk dress with silver buckles that held the fabric at the shoulders and wide bracelets of the same metal. She held her slippers in one hand while the other was clutching a little bag, filled with all sorts of shells, and rocks, and polished pieces of glass and pottery she’d found along the beach. 

That was Lady Y/N, ward of Lord Grym of Silverwood and his only niece by his younger brother Lord Basil Grym and his wife Lady Marfa. Y/N was that rare a piece that you’d search the whole world to find, but would eventually discover in your own back garden. She was beautiful — in looks and in character. And she was very smart, too. Sometimes a real challenge for the castle’s maester; something Lord Grym despised. In his opinion, a woman was nothing but a means to reproduce. On many occasions he’d voiced his opinion that every woman’s mouth should be sawn shut as to prevent her from filling a man’s head with womanly follies. That’s why even reading was forbidden to his wife, his daughters, and his niece.

A real brute he was. He was nothing like his brother, Y/N’s dearest Papa — whom the Gods had taken too quick, too soon. Much like his unfortunate wife who died, giving birth to their only child who grew up to be the young lady who was now bending down to pick up a particular red tinted piece of pottery (perhaps, a bowl or an urn) that the sea had shaped like a triangle. Or maybe even a heart, depending on how one saw it.

Y/N smiled at the little trinket and put it in her bag, carrying on along the shore. She dragged her feet along the sand until she reached a staircase that was carved inside the stone. Y/N gathered her skirts and carefully started climbing up, up, up until she reached a small door in the castle wall.

The door led into the courtyard and gardens of castle Silverwood. A place that Lord Grym had little care for. His wife, Lady Ida didn’t care for them either. She was more interested in the castle’s vineyards and cellars that held the overly sweet wine that she was drunk on most of the time. Perhaps she was trying to forget that she was married to a man like Lord Grym, Y/N would think on many occasions but would never dare voice out. She knew what her opinions would bring. Instead she saved them for someone who would appreciate them, someone who’d appreciate her wit and candour. 

Y/N stepped along the stone paving of the courtyard and dropped next to one of the gardeners who was tending to the lavender patches. A favourite of her mother’s, or so she was told. 

‘I brought these,’ she told the gardener, handing him the little bag. ‘We could decorate the rest of the trims surrounding the other flower beds. Just to make them stand out a little.’

‘Yes, M’lady.’ The gardener smiled, examining the shells and other trinkets inside the pouch. 

Upon seeing the red heart-shaped piece, Y/N grabbed it and said, ‘Could I keep this one? I rather like it?’

‘Of course, M’lady. You found ‘em, I’d say you can keep ‘em all.’ The old man chuckled. ‘My, what a shame they keep you in this place. If I was Lord Grym, I’d send you straight to King’s Landing to be the Queen.’

‘I’m much better off here. There already is a queen in King’s Landing and I really don’t like what I hear of her and His Majesty, King Joffrey.’

The gardener shushed her, ‘Don’t let the family hear you say that. Or that’s mine and your head on a spike outside the city wall.’

‘At least my eyes will look at something other than my aunt’s red face for the rest of eternity.’

The pair laughed.

Y/N looked down at the lavender bushes. She took a strand between her thumb and forefinger, rubbing them together, then brought the two fingers to her nose. She inhaled the sweet fragrance and sighed, ‘Could I use your scissors for a moment? I just wish to make some fragrant pouches for my chambers.’

‘No need to sully your hands, M’lady.’ The old man grabbed the scissors and started cutting strand by strand from one of the lavender bushes. He then used a string to tie them together into a small bouquet and handed it over to the young lady. ‘There you go.’

‘Thank you, Ronald.’ Y/N took the lavenders from the gardener with a sweet smile. ‘I’ll make sure to make a pouch for your daughter.’

‘She’d be grateful for your kindness, M’lady.’

Y/N bid them man goodbye, dusting off her feet and putting her shoes back on. The last thing she wanted was to be seen walking barefoot by her uncle, aunt or one of her cousins. 

They were six in total: Lord Grym’s heir Axel who was nearing his thirty-seventh year, his two younger brothers Gowen and Borys who were thirty-five and thirty-four respectively, and their three sisters Danaya who was thirty, Jocelyn who was twenty and Cassandra who was nineteen. They were all undoubtedly children of Lord and Lady Grym because they shared the same sneer that never seemed to leave their rough faces. 

Danaya, however, could boast with her beauty, something which Y/N envied her for. Even though she’d been married for several years now, she still caught the attention of many men and some even became names on her list of lovers. Y/N knew there was nothing wrong with enjoying the pleasures of the body, except when there was a band of marriage on your finger.

Nobody could blame Y/N for being too idealistic when it came to the matters of the heart. She dreamed of a true romance, a love story that bards would write songs and tell stories about. She was aware that this was not in the cards for her, given her high birth. But her father hadn’t bothered looking for a husband for her like many other nobles did and her uncle really didn’t care to betroth her to anyone of importance. And she was twenty- three so she was well past the early marrying stage. Maybe Y/N had a better chance of running away and meeting some foreigner who’d take her on wild adventures and show her great love and passion.

Y/N walked into her chambers, unbothered by anyone. She didn’t have a lady’s maid, but that didn’t matter because Y/N had the maids to help her clean her room whenever she needed to. She’d taught herself how to make and unmake her bed, how to start a fire in the big stone fireplace, how to heat up water for her baths, how to dress herself and style her hair for every occasion. She didn’t need a lady’s maid.

The chambers were little compared to the other Grym children’s. The windows overlooked the sea which was a blessing and on warm evenings, Y/N would open her windows and let the sound of the sea lull her to a peaceful sleep.

Today the weather was really good so Y/N opened her window to let the fresh air in. The smell of the Sea of Dorne and the lavender bouquet filled her senses with delight as she hummed an old tune to a lullaby she couldn’t quite remember. Y/N left the bouquet on her table, looking through the cabinets to find some of the materials she used to make her pouches. 

Just then the door opened and a maid walked in. ‘His Lordship would like to see you in his study, Lady Y/N.’

What could that possibly be for?

Lord Grym rarely wanted to see his niece. He probably liked to imagine she wasn’t there. And when she had the displeasure of being in his company she was thankful for the moments she wasn’t because her uncle loved putting her in uncomfortable positions, loved embarrassing her. Easy to do that to your own blood when they’re not your direct descendant. Like making fun of a hat you borrowed from a friend but then misused.

‘Your Lordship.’ Y/N bowed before the old man upon entering his study. She wasn’t allow to address him informally. Never “uncle”, never by his first name.

‘Ah, Y/N.’ Lord Grym said with feigned pleasantness. He walked up to her and took her by the hand. Very uncharacteristic for him. Y/N was silently shocked but knew better than to question it. Perhaps with age the man was becoming more docile? ‘Walk with me.’

Y/N looped her arm around her uncle’s, strolling with him down a corridor towards the great hall.

‘You’ve grown very much, little girl. Now a woman,’ Lord Grym began matter-of-factly. 

‘Thank you, Your Lordship.’

‘And as a woman, of twenty-three summers almost! you surely must be hopelessly waiting for marriage.’ Lord Grym continued and looked down at his niece, his tiny murky eyes hiding beneath thick bushy eyebrows.

‘I have and I do not wish to impose on Your Lordship’s kindness that he has bestowed upon me. I assure you, once I’m married I will be out of your hair.’ 

‘How thoughtful of you, little girl.’ Lord Grym made a point of stopping under an arched exit to the courtyard. ‘Then you will surely be glad to know that the matter of your marriage has been settled.’

Y/N looked up at her uncle in shock. ’Your Lordship?’

‘I have found you a husband, little girl.’

‘Your Lordship is very kind indeed,’ Y/N spoke in a shaky voice, trying to gulp down her nervousness. ‘I wasn’t made aware.’

‘Oh, and why would you be? These matters are much too complex for a woman to comprehend! Involving negotiations and politics. What you need to know is that you’ll be wed into a noble house according to your high birth. You might be surprised that you’ll be marrying a man of a higher rank than your youngest cousin. Does that not delight you?’

Nothing about a marriage was just as it was for Lord Grym. Everything was planned like a military attack. Even his youngest was betrothed to someone who would fill Silverwood’s treasury and be a useful pawn to Lord Grym should he needed one.

‘It delights me greatly, Your Lordship.’ Y/N smiled at her uncle in order to appease him. ‘Who is… my husband-to-be?’

‘Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne, little girl. The Red Viper.’ Lord Grym snickered, like the nickname regaled him terribly. ‘His brother, Prince Doran and I arranged it all and you will need not worry about “imposing on my hospitality” anymore.’

* * *

Miles and miles away, across the Sea of Dorne, the weather was just as nice, maybe a tad warmer. The sun was high in the sky, no clouds in sight, and the red sands of Sunspear were slowly heating up in the late spring light. 

Despite the climate to which the Dornish were accustomed, life at Sunspear was as bustling as ever. The many bazaars were loud with shouts from vendors and fragrant with the smells of foods and spices. And above this beautiful city laid the seat of House Martell — the Old Palace, with its high tower and gilded dome roofs. A true picture of beauty and strength. Much like the Martells themselves. 

Leaving the Palace grounds was the Red Viper himself, Prince Oberyn. He had climbed onto his steed and rode away from his home, towards his brother’s residence in the Water Gardens to which he’d been summoned. For what, he did not know but it had to be important for his brother to send an urgent message.

‘Had you made your intentions clear to me sooner, I would have taken the matter into my own hands.’ Oberyn paced in front of his brother’s chair with unconcealed frustration. He’d arrived at the Water Gardens with the thought that maybe his brother’s sickness was being especially hard on him and he needed his younger sibling to make him company. He certainly was not aware that he was there to be informed of his engagement to some unknown good lady from the Stormlands. 

‘That is precisely why I didn’t tell you, Oberyn.’

‘Doran,’ Oberyn stopped in his tracks and stared at his brother. ‘I am not a child.’

‘Then why do you behave like one right now?’ Doran argued without giving himself too much of a strain. ‘It has been decided. Your betrothed is of high birth and coming from an old Westerosi line.’

‘Oh, I’m sure. Some poor little girl who bled for the first time and now her family wants to marry her off before she learns what power she holds between her legs.’ Oberyn scoffed. ‘I’m aware of how our neighbours to the North think and behave.’

‘Actually, dear brother, the lady is nearly twenty-three summers old.’

‘Still young. I’m forty, Doran.’

‘And you’re not getting any younger, brother.’ Doran stated. ‘You must understand your position and what it requires. I would never deny my nieces the privileges that they deserve by birthright. But you need to marry and produce a legitimate heir that the rest of the Seven Kingdoms can recognise.’

Oberyn didn’t enjoy being forced into anything. He was a free spirit. His brother was the one made for a straight-cut life. However, Oberyn was no fool either, and was aware of his duties and the rules he needed to follow given his rank and the mighty family he derived from. He knew that no matter how precious his eight daughters were to him and how much he loved them, they were illegitimate in the eyes of the Northern states. Something that made his blood turn to a lake of fire. And also something he knew he couldn’t fight.

But that didn’t change the fact that he didn’t enjoy being forced into anything.

‘The lady’s nameday is in a fortnight. Her uncle has invited our House and I’d like you to take Arianne in my stead. After the celebrations are over, you will bring your bride-to-be to Dorne where the two of you will be married.’

‘There’s no point in arguing with you on this.’ Oberyn’s answer wasn’t a question, it was a statement. The deal was struck. There was nothing to be done.

Doran observed his brother who suddenly looked lost in thought, something that was not in Oberyn’s nature. His wit was sharp, his best weapon. He never pondered over his words or his decisions. ‘Oberyn, I hope you can try to forgive me and learn to appreciate, if not love, your betrothed.’

‘What is she called?’

Doran smiled to himself. Little victories, he thought.’Y/N.’

* * *

Y/N was surprised to learn that mere days after her uncle’s announcement that she was to marry Oberyn Martell, she had been sent something from the Prince himself. 

‘Is it jewellery?’ He youngest cousin pranced around her as the two descended the staircase towards the main entrance. ‘Is it a crown? I can’t believe you’re marrying a prince! It’s so unfair! It should’ve be me. I’m marrying a Northern lord.’

‘Casandra, please!’ Y/N begged, trying not to convey any of the annoyance she felt in that very moment. She knew that Cassandra meant well but she had a proclivity for whinging. Perhaps it was the curse of the youngest child.

Y/N walked into the courtyard, Cassandra following closely. At the gate, stood a tall, olive-skinned man in Dornish military uniform who held the reigns to a very beautiful black horse. Y/N gazed at the creature with obvious fascination.

When she reached the Dornishman, he bowed his head. He spoke in a deep, accented voice, ’Milady. I come from Sunspear on His Highness, Prince Oberyn’s orders.’

‘Welcome, sir.’ Y/N smiled kindly at the man which he return in earnest. ‘On what business have you been sent here? I hope that His Highness is not displeased with me.’

‘No, Milady. He sends you this gift,’ the Dornishman said and pulled the rains of the horse. The beautiful creature huffed, shaking its head which made the long black mane twirl around its graceful neck. Y/N carefully stepped towards the horse with obvious curiosity. She knew how to ride a horse and had been complimented on her skill, but had never had a horse of her own.

She ran a hand along it’s head and shushed it when it let out a snort. She whispered, ’It’s alright, it’s alright. It’s very good to meet you, you beautiful thing!’

‘She’s one of the Prince’s own. He hoped you’d be pleased with her.’

‘Oh, you’re a girl! No wonder you’re so beautiful!’ Y/N grinned at the horse who whinnied happily, stomping her hooves on the stone pavement.

‘Why do you get a horse? Why don’t I?’ 

Y/N had completely forgotten that Cassandra was still there. She turned to her cousin and said, ‘You already have a horse. Shouldn’t you be with you tutor right now? You know how Aunt Ida gets when you skip lessons.’

That seemed to do the trick because Cassandra’s pout dropped and she was gone back into the castle in a little cloud of sand.

‘I am sorry about her, she’s the youngest.’

The Dornishman nodded his head. ‘It is all good, Milady. The Prince also wished for me to give you this,’ with these words, the man pulled out a letter from a pocket in his yellow travel jacket and handed it to Y/N. She took it, noting the golden Martell sun and spear on the seal.

‘Thank you very much, sir. Er… will you be leaving straight away?’

‘My ship is leaving port in two hours. The Prince gave me the task of bringing the gift and his letter to you and instructed me to come back immediately after that.’

‘I see.’ Y/N looked down at the letter again. ‘Would you like something to eat before you leave. I’d like to write a quick letter to His Highness to show my gratitude for his gift and if you could…’

‘It’d be an honour to deliver it.’ The guard bowed. Y/N called one of the courtyard guards to take her new horse to the stables and make sure it was given food and a good place to rest. She then happily showed the Dornishman to the kitchens where the cooks fixed him a quick lunch.

Y/N sat in the kitchen hallway, at the side of the stairs as to not block the path to the people working and opened the letter.

> _Dear Lady Y/N,_
> 
> _I am saddened that we have not been officially introduced, but I am hopeful that we shall meet soon and mend this little inadequacy. I thank you and your family for accepting my family’s proposition that our two houses be joined in matrimony. And as my show of gratitude, I send you this fine mare from my own stables in hopes that she pleases you and brings you many happy hours, riding through the countryside. She is called Svila but if you desire to change her name to one from your own country, I am sure it will pose no problem. She is a very intelligent creature. I pray that she will be treated kindly while under your care._
> 
> _I shall see you in less than a fortnight, until then be well and may the Gods bless you and keep you._
> 
> _Oberyn Martell_

Y/N felt a giddy smile pull at the corners of her mouth. She hadn’t even met the man and she already felt so entranced by him. And what a lovely handwriting he had! It certainly spoke volumes of his talent for penmanship and his obviously high intellect.

Y/N quickly rose from the floor, going back into the kitchen to ask the cook where he kept his quill and parchment. ‘I just need to write a quick letter,’ she explained, but needed not plead any further. All of the staff adored her since she was the only good and kind member of the Grym family. 

Once the letter to Oberyn was finished and Y/N was sure that it would not disappoint, seeing as how beautiful his own letter to her was, she handed it to the Dornishman. She put her hand in her dress’s pocket and pulled out a few strands of lavender she carried with herself, putting them in the man’s hand along with the letter. ’I do not have much to give His Highness, but I hope this will suffice. May you have a safe journey.’

The man bowed to her one last time and Y/N watched him leave through the front gate.


	2. Chapter 2

> _Dear Prince Oberyn,_
> 
> _I am very grateful for the generous gift you have given me. Svila shall keep her name for I do not wish to part her from her native land more than she already is. I prey that she will find her way back to your stables sooner rather than later. In the meantime, I assure you she will be well taken care of and loved with the same magnitude as you most certainly have loved her. I cannot imagine what I could possibly gift you in return, for I do not own many things that I would deem worthy of Your Highness’s fine taste. Please, accept these lavender strands from my garden as a small token of my appreciation for your immense kindness._
> 
> _I hope to see you soon and finally make your acquaintance. May the Gods bless you!_
> 
> _Y/N Grym_

* * *

> _Dear Lady Y/N,_
> 
> _I thank you for your sweet gift. I must admit I expected nothing in return from you but these strands of lavender brought a smile to my face. They are now pinned to my robe as to not accidentally misplace them. The scent brings me a sense of calm which I had not felt in a very long time for which I am thankful. I shall keep your gift safe until the time we meet._
> 
> _May the Gods bless you and keep you!_
> 
> _Oberyn_
> 
> _P.S. If we are to be husband and wife, then you must call me by my proper name and not by any other title. I would also like to request your permission to call you by name._

* * *

> _Dear Oberyn,_
> 
> _I am very happy you liked my gift and I appreciate it being so kindly guarded. I am glad it brings you peace, I have found lavender has that power. I will relay your words of recognition to the gardener who tends to the lavender; he will be most grateful I’m sure._
> 
> _Also, I agree with your notion: I would be very happy to call you by your name, and you can call me by mine._
> 
> _My kindest wishes go with you,_
> 
> _Y/N_

* * *

Y/N couldn’t help but feel a swell of excitement in her chest whenever a raven came for her. Her stomach would bubble and it would feel like a thousand birds suddenly took flight within her. She longed to see the latest letter, she’d received from her betrothed and see the elegant way he wrote down her name. 

Their correspondence helped Y/N get to know Oberyn a little bit better. She longed to read of how his day went and how things were in Sunspear. Sometimes she would re-read his letters, sat on the windowsill in her room, with one of the panes open to let in the fresh sea breeze into her room. And she would look beyond the horizon, across the Sea of Dorne and imagine that Oberyn was perhaps doing the same. 

Was she really becoming so enraptured with a man she hadn’t seen and barely knew, Gods help her! Maybe despite the suddenness of the marriage arrangement, love was not out of the question, Y/N would often think with hope. Or, at least, fond affections. But for now she was satisfied to have his friendship and perhaps the hints of care in Oberyn’s writing that dripped from every little scroll.

Oberyn’s letters were safely put in the little wooden chest where Y/N kept he most precious belongings: some inherited jewels from her mother, a brooch from her father with the white dove of her mother’s family crest. There were also trinkets from the beach, including the little triangular red thing she’d found nearly two weeks ago. And then the letters, the first one neatly folded in it’s original position while the rest of the Prince’s letters were rolled, having been delivered by raven. 

Today was going to be the day of Oberyn’s arrival. And Y/N’s nameday as well! Not that the Grym family celebrated it, but it was nice to think that the two wonderful occasions coincided. She was way too excited to stay in bed too long so she stepped into a simple day dress before rushing down to the kitchens to ask for some tea. The staff acknowledged her nameday with a little festivity of their own. The cook had prepared a berry sponge cake — a particular favourite of Y/N’s — with the berries they’d ordered for the Prince’s arrival. Apparently, he too had a fondness for the tiny fruits.

‘Mary,’ Y/N stopped one of the maids on her way out of the kitchen, ‘do you know if Danaya is awake? I need to speak to her.’

‘She is, M’lady. Should be getting dressed right now.’

Y/N thanked the maid and hurried up the stairs towards the wing where Danaya’s family quarters were — namely hers and her husbands chambers and the nursery. They had the third biggest rooms in the castle, after Lord Grym and Lady Ida, and the eldest Grym son. However, they lacked the privilege that Y/N’s much more modest chamber had and that was a peaceful view. Danaya’s five windows overlooked the small town bellow Silverwood castle and the stench of shit and despair seemed to have soaked in the wood, tapestries and into Danaya herself. 

‘Danaya? May I ask you something?’ Y/N entered her cousin’s chamber with a tentative step. She rarely spoke to her given Danaya’s shortage of sweetness of character. She was a beauty, of course, but it did not match her foul and often downright cruel temper.

‘Unless it’s something I can’t answer, or don’t want to.’ Danaya didn’t look away from her reflection in the mirror as her lady’s maids dressed her up.

‘You’ve met the prince of Dorne, haven’t you? Prince Oberyn?’

‘I have indeed.’

‘And? What is he like in reality?’

Danaya seemed to catch the slight eagerness in Y/N’s voice because she parted her eyes from her visage and trained them on her cousin instead, a smirk pulling at her thin lips. ’Handsome, very much so. And the rumours aren’t incorrect, he really is the most generous lover.’

The maids chuckled, but hastily covered up their indiscretion by busying themselves. Y/N felt her face heat up at the revelation. ’Oh.’

She was no idiot; she was aware of the Prince’s reputation. She’d spent the night after the announcement of her betrothal mulling over the reality of having a husband who had so many… for a lack of a better word, worldly experiences. But learning that her cousin had probably been intimate with her betrothed brought a queasy feeling to Y/N’s gut. It couldn’t be jealousy! Perhaps, nowadays Oberyn was a different man. Or was going to be?

‘Don’t worry, pet. I’m sure he’ll indulge you on your wedding night.’ Danaya turned around and grabbed Y/N by the chin with less than gentle force. ‘But I don’t think he’ll find someone as… inexperienced as you much entertaining.’ She turned back around, admiring the jewellery around her neck. ‘He’ll be back to his lover, that Sand woman, or the multitudes of whores from Dorne to Essos.’

‘But what if he’s not—‘

‘If he’s not like what?’ Danaya interrupted.

‘Well, what if he doesn’t do that? Isn’t the marital bed sacred?’

Danaya laughed. ’You truly believe Oberyn Martell would change his ways? For you? You’re not special, my dear.’

‘But he’s been most kind… i-in our correspondence.’

‘Kindness does not a good marriage aid, Y/N. And he’s probably just indulging you for the sake of this betrothal. _Correspondence_ ,’ she repeated the words through a cruel chuckle. ‘What he’ll do is put a baby in you like he’s supposed to and then be back to fucking anything else that passes before his eyes.’

‘But—‘

‘Do you think me and my husband share the same bed out of love? Or attraction to one another? Ha! I can barely stand him! That’s why you will take a lover in Dorne and be done with it. Prince Oberyn won’t care and you won’t either, once you get used to it.’

‘But—‘

‘Ugh!’ Danaya rolled her eyes and groaned, waving her hand at one of the maids. ‘Vera, can you show my cousin out? Good day to you, pet.’

* * *

Y/N spent the rest of her day just pacing around the courtyard, pretending to admire the flower beds, but even their beauty and sweet fragrance could not distract her from the uneasy feeling that still pulled at her insides. Why did Danaya have to say all those horrible things? Couldn’t she be happy for her only cousin? Just for once.

With a frustrated groan, Y/N sat down on the stone rim of a flower bed with yellow hyacinths. Their scent seemed to mock her in that moment of uncertainty. And it was her nameday, for Gods’ sake! She’s entering her twenty-third summer, that should be a sign of maturity yet she was acting like a child.

Y/N knew what she could do to clear her mind. She rushed off to the stables to get Svila. The beautiful mare neighed joyfully upon seeing her person. 

‘It’s good to know someone’s happy to see me.’ Y/N rubbed Svila’s nose fondly and went to prepare her saddle. ‘Come on, my dear. You need to stretch your legs and I needed a few hours away from the castle.’ 

The preparation for the Martell party were already underway and nearly finished. The red and yellow colours of the Dornish house were hung alongside the green and silver ones of House Grym. There were three hours until Y/N’s future family’s expected arrival and nobody would notice if she disappeared for at least two of those. 

She mounted the horse and informed one of the stable boys that if someone asked after her, he was to say that she went on a quick ride and would be back as soon as possible. With that request, Y/N gently nudged her heels in Svila’s sides and rode away from the stables.

* * *

As the Dornish ship neared the port at Silverwood Castle, so did Oberyn’s mild feeling of discomfort grew. His hands gripped the wooden railing, his eyes wandered along the white cliffs and up towards the towers of the impressive structure. Oberyn’s forehead was scrunched in deep thought which drew the attention of his niece — Arianne. 

‘Why do you look like a man who’s being taken to the executioner.’ Arianne chuckled at the expression on her uncle’s face. 

‘I am just thinking.’

Arianne hummed. ‘Has it something to do with the situation you’re in… or a certain someone you’ve been writing to almost every day.’

‘You little spy,’ Oberyn scolded his niece who smirked triumphantly.

‘I was just curious. You cannot blame me for that.’

‘I can’t, you’re right. But I suggest you keep away from my correspondence in the future.’

Arianne’s smirk morphed into an impressed grin that threatened to split her face in two. ‘Intriguing. Don’t worry, I only wanted to know what this Lady Grym was like.’

‘Y/N.’ Oberyn corrected her without meaning to. 

‘Y/N,’ Arianne repeated. ‘Well, I think she’s a bright woman. From what I’ve read. At least you won’t be bored and you will have so much to talk about.’

Oberyn shook his head solemnly. ‘I pity her.’

‘You pity her? Whatever for.’ Arianne asked. She honestly couldn’t understand her uncle. The two were very close and were practically an open book to the other. But at that moment she was looking at a man who had walled himself inside his own head. ‘She’s going to be a Martell. She’s going to be the wife of a prince. What is there to make you _pity_ her?’

‘They’re tying this poor girl to a sinking rock,’ Oberyn said quietly, still staring at the incoming white walls of Silverwood. ‘I pity her for having to marry an old man.’

‘Now you’re just being melodramatic,’ scoffed Arianne. ‘From what I’ve read, she seems to be happy with this arrangement. And I think you will be too, in time.’

Oberyn said nothing but finally looked at his niece with a flat expression. He knew she was right, not that he’d admit that to her straight away (what a boost of ego that would give her!) but she was right to tell him off like that. Besides, Oberyn couldn’t possibly face his bride-to-be resembling a dark cloud! If anything he could look forward to meeting the woman he’s been so eager to write to for the past fortnight. 

When the ship docked, Oberyn helped Arianne down the plank that led them straight to Lord Grym’s advisor and a group of guards who would escort them to the castle gates. The walk was spent almost in silence safe for Arianne’s chatting to the advisor about particular customs and etiquette in this part of the Stormlands that they’d have to follow as guests and what they should expect from Lord Grym. The adviser spoke in a sly, saccharine way and to both Arianne and Oberyn’s ears he sounded condescending. He explained that Lord Grym had “certain views on outspoken women” and suggested that perhaps they would do well to let Oberyn do all the talking.

‘This is ridiculous,’ Arianne scoffed in her uncle’s ear as she dropped conversation with the advisor. ‘I’m father’s heir! Fucking Northerners!’

‘I promise you, we’ll be out of this place by noon tomorrow. I don’t want to spend time in this company any longer than you do.’ 

The two were brought into a large courtyard of white stone with many little flower beds. Oberyn mused that this would have to be the small garden Y/N had referred to several times in her letters. Somewhere amongst the green plots there should be a lavender one that Oberyn simply couldn’t locate. But the three strands, pinned to his left lapel were enough of an assurance that their home were nearby. Perhaps, Y/N would be willing to show them to him since the Martells never planted that particular plant in the Water Gardens and lavender was considered luxury in Dorne.

The courtyard was nearly packed with high-born members of the Southern Stormlands, ladies-in-waiting and all sorts of people who were standing on their toes, curiously observing the new arrivals. 

At the end of the rounded staircase that led into the castle stood the entire Grym family. At the front was Lord Grym who was forcing a smile that couldn’t reach his eyes; behind his right shoulder was Lady Grym, red faced and somber looking. Then there were all their children, their spouses and a few grandchildren to the old Lord and Lady.

Lord Grym stepped forward to greet the newly arrived Martell party. Even though Oberyn towered over him, the old man still managed to straighten his shoulders enough to give himself an air of superiority. ’Prince Oberyn, Princess Arianne, welcome to Silverwood castle.’

‘Thank you, Lord Grym.’ Oberyn preferred to keep the conversation to a few kind words. A day was already wasted coming to this place and he didn’t want to waste his breath on Lord Grym. That wretched man didn’t deserve as much.

Oberyn’s eyes scanned the rest of the Grym family, looking for a face that he could put to the name that had been his main focus for the past two weeks. When he couldn’t find one he looked at Lord Grym who chuckled dryly.

‘You must forgive my niece,’ the old man said. ‘She is an absent-minded thing. Hopefully, Your Highnesses won’t take it to heart. You’ll meet her at the feast.’

Lord Grym beckoned Oberyn and Arianne inside the castle, ordering the servants to show his guests to their chambers for a rest and change for clothes for the feast. With that the Grym family moved into the depths of the castle while the two Martells were taken to a wing designated for high-born guests.

* * *

The sun had gone down minutes ago as Y/N galloped through the town beneath the castle and straight to the stables. She vigorously apologised to Svila for rushing her but she was so, so late. Her uncle was surely going to be furious.

Y/N handed Svila’s reigns to the stable boy from before, asking him to feed her well. Making sure the mare was calm by pressing her forehead against hers, Y/N left the stables for her room. She sneaked in through the kitchens, apologising to the busy staff for the intrusion. She raced up the stairs until she was behind the door to her room. 

One of the maids had clearly made sure to light the candles and fireplace for her, and leave a clean gown on her bed. Y/N relaxed a little bit, silently thanking whichever maid was her saviour. She then stripped out of her day dress, flinging it at a hamper in the corner of her room. 

The gown that had been laid out for her was beautiful — deep red in colour with bronze clasps on the shoulders. Y/N carefully took it in her hands and lifted it over her head, letting the fabric pour down her body. The hem reached the floor. Y/N used her floor-length mirror to finished up the lacing on her back and on her side that would keep the dress together. When she was satisfied with her look, she quickly ran her fingers through her messed up hair, pulling out twigs that had gotten tangled in there when she was riding out of the forest. Y/N slipped out of her shoes and found a pair that would suit her nice dress much better.

She then ran… again.

The guards that stood before the massive oak doors to the main hall gave her a quick glance before one of them reached out and pulled one wing of the door so Y/N could slip in.

The festivities were in their high. Wine from the Silverwood cellars was being generously distributed amongst the many guests who were yelling and laughing. Two men stumbled by Y/N, knocking into her without an apology. She made a last check on her dress to see if everything is in place, clasped her hands in front of her and walked straight to the main table.

Lord and Lady Grym were sat on a table that was on a raised part of the hall. That way they could observe the rest of the people like hawks. Which made Y/N feel even worse about her tardiness.

‘Little girl!’ Lord Grym’s voice seemed to overshadow those of the dozens of guests in his hall. A few heads turned their way, eager to witness the young woman’s embarrassment. ‘How good of you to finally join us.’

‘Your Lordship.’ Y/N curtsied. ‘I apologise I—‘

‘Where were you?’

Y/N gulped at the cold tone that Lord Grym masterfully hid behind a falsely sweet smile. ‘I-I was riding, sir.’

‘Riding.’ Lord Grym raised his eyebrows and gave the first table to his left where his closest bannermen sat a knowing look. ‘Something every woman should be good at.’

The men on the table erupted in laughter, making Y/N’s face grow hot at the humiliation. One of her fingernails dug into the palm of her hand in order to stop her from speaking back at the rude men. She knew that an action like that would not help her cause.

‘Well, dear niece, now that you’ve finally graced us with your presence,’ Lord Grym stifled his laughter with a sip of his wine, ‘why don’t you say hello to His Highness?’

Y/N’s head had been so preoccupied with anxiety that she’d completely forgotten the subject of this very feast. Her eyes followed Lord Grym’s outstretched hand and landed on the man who was sat one seat away from her cousin Danaya. 

Oberyn. 

The stories didn’t lie. He was just as handsome, if not more. The years that marked his face in the form of small lines on his forehead had not dulled his charm. His hair and beard were neatly trimmed, and black as the night. A moustache sat above his top lip and just below a very dignified long, arched nose. In the looming light of the fireplaces, Y/N noted the glistening of a few white hairs that looked more like molten gold. And his eyes watched her intently, like he was devouring her soul.

Oberyn was dressed in a long tunic, embroidered with what seemed like a thousand golden suns. The garment was tied at his waist with a leather belt, a sheathed dagger rested upon his hip. Underneath the tunic he was wearing an orange shirt that was opened wide at his chest and one could let their eyes devour the long, strip of skin that Oberyn unabashedly flaunted to the world. 

‘Haven’t seen a man before, little girl?’ Lord Grym joked again, his bannermen booming with laughter.

Y/N’s heart tremored in her chest as Oberyn stood up from his seat and walked towards her, ignoring the old lord. When he stood before her, his mouth twitched into a smile that was invisible to the rest of the attendees. It was meant only for Y/N. 

Oberyn took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, pressing them to the gentle skin of her knuckles. ‘Y/N.’ His eyes stayed on hers and nobody else. 

‘Oberyn.’ His name spilled out of her mouth and it felt like rain pouring over the land after months of drought. It was so nice for her to finally speak the name that she’d only dared to say in her mind. And oh, what a bliss to her soul that brought!

Oberyn looped her arm around his and walked her to the head table. He pulled the chair to his right for her and let her sit down. She thanked him quietly as a servant immediately rushed to her and filled her cup.

‘It is good to finally make your acquaintance,’ Oberyn said in her ear. Y/N smiled brightly, bringing her goblet to her mouth to sip the overly-sweet wine. 

‘Likewise.’ Why was her stomach so fluttery all over again?

‘May I introduce my niece, Arianne.’ Oberyn moved back into his chair to reveal the woman sitting between him and Danaya. She was young, maybe around Y/N’s age, and she was beautiful. Her long hair fell down her sides like a black waterfall and her head was adorned by a delicate golden tiara with the Martell sun. And despite the bad lighting in the great hall and their own natural darkness, her large brown eyes brightened up at this new introduction. Y/N pondered how glad she was there was a woman in this room who was more beautiful than her cousin Danaya. 

‘Princess Arianne,’ Y/N bowed her head to her in respect. ‘I am honoured to meet you, Your Highness.’

‘Please, it’s just Arianne.’ She grinned and reached across her uncle to amicably squeeze Y/N’s hand. ‘If we had to use titles, that would make family gatherings a nightmare. Don’t you think, uncle?’

Y/N smiled at their easy exchange, feeling a slight pang of sadness that she was never granted the same familiarity with her own family.

‘Arianne, then.’ Y/N took another sip of her wine. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived. I was taking Svila for a ride.’

Oberyn smiled at the mention of the mare which brought a sense of pride that swelled up in Y/N’s chest. 

‘Well, I think that anyone who arrives late to their own nameday feast must have good taste.’ Arianne winked but the look she received in return was one of confusion.

Y/N stared at the two Martells, before her eyes landed on Lord Grym who gave her a quick menacingly happy glance.

‘This is not my nameday feast.’ Y/N said uncomfortably. She felt bad that these two wonderful people had to be a part of Lord Grym’s little games. ‘I’m sorry for the confusion.’

‘So today is not your nameday?’ Oberyn asked. 

‘No, no, no, it is… um,’ Y/N felt her face heat up once again and she put down the wine goblet, ‘I don’t celebrate it. The family doesn’t— that is, Lord Grym must’ve made a mistake. I was told that this feast was in honour of your arrival.’

Oberyn and Arianne shared a look and it seemed as if they conversed easily without a single word being spoken. Oberyn’s face fell under an unreadable façade and Y/N felt bad at the thought that he was angry. Perhaps even angry at her. He pushed his seat back and walked behind the row of chairs until he reached Lord Grym’s throne-like one. 

The two talked in hushed tones. Y/N let her head drop slightly. She felt like she’d caused a massive issue with her words, but felt instantly more relaxed when Arianne took her hand again.

When Oberyn came back to them, he had a satisfied grin on his face. He held out his hand for Y/N to take and when she rose to her feet, he looped her arm around his again, leading her out of the hall with one last look at Arianne that seemed to be enough of an explanation for the young princess.

Oberyn and Y/N walked away from the festivities and out of the castle, unbothered. They descended the stairs to the courtyard and the Dornishman leisurely strolled towards the flower beds.

Y/N didn’t know what to say to him, but perhaps an apology was a good start. ‘I’m terribly sorry for the confusion, Your Highness.’

‘I thought we were to drop official titles,’ Oberyn scolded softly, his honey-like voice putting Y/N at ease. He picked one remaining twig from her hair as if it didn’t bother him much. ‘And I told your uncle that if he thought that the Martells would take a joke laying down, then he must be even a greater fool than I’ve imagined.’

Y/N froze in shock at his statement. Suddenly, a gasping laugh escaped her chest and she covered her mouth to stop it. ‘You didn’t! Oh, he must be so… Oh, Gods!’ She bit her lip to contain her chuckles. ‘What did he say?’

‘He seemed a little stunned,’ Oberyn admitted, smiling down at the giggling woman beside him. ‘But a Martell is not to be played with. So I asked to walk with you around the courtyard as an apology for his rudeness.’

‘Well, that’s… you’re very kind.’

‘It’s your nameday, a quiet stroll is the least I can give you at this time.’

Y/N smiled up at Oberyn. She sighed internally; Gods, he was so handsome! ‘It’s more than enough… Oberyn.’

He returned her smile, the flames of the torches that lit the courtyard danced in his eyes. ‘Now, will you show me where the lavender bushes are. My own three strands have been quite anxiously awaiting a return to their native land.’ He joked, patting his lapel. Y/N saw the now dried lavender strands that were secured to Oberyn’s coat and her whole being was flooded with affection for the man before her. 

She excitedly dragged him over to the flowerbed where the lavender shrubs were, going into an excited rant about them: how long they’ve been there, how they grew, what she used the flowers for and so on and so forth. Oberyn listened in fascination. He clasped his hands behind his back and closely followed Y/N’s excited narrative, stopping her every now and then to ask a question. The two continued on with their walk after Oberyn requested to see the other plants that grew in Silverwood’s modest (meagre, in his opinion) gardens.

When Y/N was out of breath from talking about plants, and types of fertilisation, and the many different ways of splicing, Oberyn offered they sit on one of the stone benches. Y/N hastily apologised if she was becoming too overbearing, but he assured her that he enjoyed learning new things and gardening had never been his forte. Y/N thought how nice it was that someone of Oberyn’s status found interest in her — quite unfitting of a high-born lady — hobby. 

Throughout the evening the two found many topics to talk about and many of the things they said had been things they never learned about the other from their short correspondence. Y/N found her heart leaping in her chest whenever Oberyn would smile at her, or even look at her in a particular way. She immensely enjoyed his shortened tale of his travels between Westeros and Essos. Oberyn was not only a traveller and adventurer, he was a wonderful storyteller as well. Y/N allowed herself the sneaky imagine of him sitting surrounded by little curious faces that bore his nose and her own good features as he regaled them with tales of sea storms and distant lands. The thought immediately brought warmth to her heart which rose up to her face.

‘May I ask you something?’ Oberyn inquired after a moment of blissful silence. Y/N nodded. ‘Why do you allow them to treat you as an inferior? I watched how your uncle addressed you and how you behaved before him. This is not how family should be and it does not match the fiery spirit I see in you.’

Y/N looked down at where her hands were clasped in her lap. ‘They’re the only family I have in this world. They may not be… good to me all of the time, but they’ve brought me up. They do their best, I’m sure.’

Oberyn lifted her chin and looked deeply into her eyes. His eyes were filled with gentle admiration and astonishment combined. Y/N’s stomach began fluttering again and the sensation travelled further down until it reached between her legs. 

‘You are a gem amongst coal, sweet girl.’

‘I’ve been told I’m a dove. Mild, like my mother.’

‘Then a dove you are,’ Oberyn replied softly, a tiny smile hiding underneath his moustache. ‘I cannot believe myself but I must ask for your permission to kiss you.’

Y/N’s sneaked a glance at Oberyn’s mouth, then she looked him straight in the eyes and whispered, ‘I am going to be you wife. You may kiss me without asking my permission.’

Oberyn chuckled underneath his breath and lowered his lips onto hers in a soft kiss. Y/N lifted one hand from her lap and gently cupped Oberyn’s face, drawing him closer. Her body rippled like a pond that someone had thrown a pebble in, and then another one, and another one. Oberyn’s tongue licked her bottom lip as if asking for permission which Y/N permitted by opening her lips to let him explore her as he pleased. It felt so calming and yet so exhilarating. She’d been kissed before, she’d even had allowed herself certain endeavours with another highborn son, but nothing could ever compare to the sheer serenity at being kissed by Oberyn, the man who would soon be her husband.


	3. Chapter 3

Oberyn couldn’t recall the last time he looked at another woman, another _person_ , like the way he did when he saw Lady Y/N sneak in the Great Hall. 

The start of the feast was mostly annoying and the evening seemed to be dragging along. Oberyn pointedly ignored the lustful looks that Lady Danaya aimed at him as she “absentmindedly” played with the décolletage of her dress. She was one of the many names etched on his bedpost and one of the few he truly regretted. Namely because of the Lady’s personality, or lack of one. She was also a cruel bitch so it didn’t leave Oberyn with many warm feelings towards her. That’s why he was thankful when Arianne pushed him into the chair to her right so she could sit between him and Lady Danaya, saving him an evening of unwanted attention. He wanted to focus solely on his betrothed and measure her in real life. 

He immediately spotted her when she squeezed through the small crack in the heavy double door. She appeared to be trying not to draw too much attention to herself which Oberyn thought was foolish given the heavenly way she looked.

She was dressed in a deep red dress that accentuated the luscious curves of her body and flowed freely past her ankles and trailed behind her as she manoeuvred around two rowdy — and very drunk — Northerners. Oberyn was ready to help her move away from the two men but she quickly recovered from the near collision and walked ahead towards the main table where he, Arianne and the Grym family ware all sat.

Before Oberyn could say anything, make his presence known to her, Lord Grym spoke up, drawing the attention of only the closest tables that held the Dornish on one side and some pale faced drunkards on the other. Bannermen of the old man himself. 

Lord Grym obviously spoke to embarrass Y/N who took his insulting remarks with a stiff chin. Oberyn wondered how many times she’d had to endure this sort of behaviour from her own uncle. In that little moment he chose to enjoy the sigh of his betrothed, standing just a few metres away, still oblivious to his presence in the room.

This was the face behind the name on his letters. This beautiful, young face with not a single blemish or wrinkle. With kind eyes that any man lucky enough would fight a war for. Oberyn would certainly start a war with the entirety of Westeros just for the privilege of seeing her eyes aimed at him.

And suddenly they were.

Y/N looked up at him. Her eyes filling with recognition and a flicker of delight. If Lord Grym made another insulting remark, Oberyn ignored it. That old man showed that he did not deserve a Dornishman’s attention, especially not the Prince’s. Y/N’s lips parted in slight astonishment as Oberyn rounded the end of the table to walk up to her. He wanted to see her from up close, to see if she was real and not just a pillar of spoke that tricked his eyes. He reached for her hand and gently laid a kiss upon her skin.

She was real and she was bewitching. 

Moments later when Y/N revealed that the feast had nothing to do with her nameday and the whole thing was just one of Lord Grym’s many ways of playing with his guests, Oberyn felt angry. Not only that he was playing with his own flesh and blood, as well. If Oberyn could be sure that no repercussion would befall him, he was ready to draw his dagger and stab the old man in the neck in front of his wife, children and bannermen. But he contained that fire and let it guide his words instead, his simple threat to Lord Grym acting like a snake’s venom, quick and effective. And all Oberyn desired as an apology was a walk with his betrothed. The threat certainly scared the old fool into submission and he agreed to the Oberyn’s request.

He was happy to take Y/N away from the noisy and ill-lit Great Hall of the castle. He wanted to see her up close, study her, learn what she really was without the noise and disturbance of the progressively more drunk Northerners. Their overly sweet wine was no great temptation for him to stay there either. There was nothing like a good Dornish red and Oberyn couldn’t help the image of wining the woman on his side once they got back to Sunspear. 

* * *

Oberyn ordered the few servants and soldiers that accompanied him and his niece to start packing. Not a single Dornishman felt welcome in the cold, damp castle. None complained at the order. Their hosts didn’t either.

Y/N was standing in the middle of her chamber when Oberyn strolled through the open door. He pressed his shoulder against the door frame and observed the short woman move around her room slowly, methodically stopping at significant places. Her chamber was so tiny it could almost be a servant’s. The only difference was the old four-post bed and the large window which overlooked the Sea. The morning sunlight filtered through the colourful glass panes and created vivid shades on the ground and on Y/N’s skin. She hadn’t felt his presence yet. She drew closer to the semi-opened window to look at the blue vastness ahead.

Oberyn thought he should make his presence known and knocked on the door frame, involuntarily starting the young woman.

‘Oberyn,’ she exhaled, ‘I just wanted to give this room one last look.’

If one could call that broom closet a room, Oberyn thought but didn’t dare say. ‘I’ve made sure Svila is on board. All your belongings have been stored away in your cabin. Are you…?’

Oberyn burrowed his brows. He couldn’t for a second comprehend why the young woman would be feel so sentimental towards a place that had brought her little comfort or love. She looked at the old wooden furniture as if it were gilded and walked across the cold, stone floors as if they warmed her feet. 

‘I know it must seem strange, but’ Y/N looked at herself in the floor-length mirror in the corner of her chamber and smiled faintly at the reflection ‘this is all I’ve known. My whole life has been in this room.’

Oberyn stepped towards her and slowly trailed his eyes from where her hands hung at her sides to her curious eyes. Y/N studied his gaze thoughtfully with a tilted head. Oberyn reached out and grazed his fingers along the side of her cotton dress. He didn’t need to pay attention to catch the faint gasp that rolled past her lips. For a second, Oberyn could swear he felt a foreign current jolt his body at the sound Y/N made and the shock brought him back to reality.

‘We must go.’ He smiled at her as she turned around to face him. ‘I don’t wish to keep my niece waiting. She can become quite a vicious serpent when irritated.’

‘And I’m guessing my family has irritated her long enough.’

Oberyn couldn’t help the laugh that her cheeky remark pulled out of his chest. 

* * *

Arianne was indeed looking more and more irritated as she rushed to say her goodbyes to the Grym family. Before she left she gave lady Danaya one last condescending look, throwing the other woman in a quiet fit of rage as she excused herself from the farewell party. Lord and Lady Grym were missing, probably still incapacitated after last night’s heavy drinking. Or just uninterested in saying their goodbyes to their only niece. In the courtyard were only their children and none of them looked particularly enthusiastic to be there.

Oberyn gave each and every single one of them a final look of disdain. He glanced at Y/N who seemed to be expecting something from her cousins. Perhaps one single word? But when neither said anything and only nodded her way, Oberyn took her by the hand and led her away from the courtyard, followed by the small group of Dornish soldiers.

As the pair reached one of the boats that had brought the two royals to Silverwood, they were welcomed by the endearing sight of a few of the castle’s servants who looked on to their departing mistress in sadness. 

Y/N let go of Oberyn’s hand and rushed forward to embrace an old man who’s body seemed so frail someone would think it would barely stay in one piece. He was holding a pouch from the top of which poked the tips of lavender blooms.

‘I shall miss you all very dearly,’ Y/N said to the small group. She looked down at the snugly packed up lavender bush and grinned.

The old man handed it to her. ‘You must have something from your homeland, M’lady.’

‘Thank you, Ronald.’ Y/N peeked at Oberyn over her shoulder as if to check if he approved of the gift in her hands and he smiled in response. Lavender was a rarity to Dorne and what better way to introduce it than with the prince’s new bride. Besides, Oberyn would’ve been the last person to refuse Y/N any comfort. And if a simple lavender bush gave her that comfort then it was all the more welcome in his home. 

The few maids in the group curtsied to Y/N as she said her goodbyes, the last one handing her a bundle, explaining that it was a parting gift from the cook. Y/N asked her to relay her gratitude to the rest of the staff and with that final goodbye she turned away and headed with Oberyn up the plank that brought them onto the ship. Y/N handed the lavender bush to a servant who hurriedly took it below deck with her luggage.

The order was given and the Dornish ship slowly and rocking with the waves drifted away from the shore.

* * *

Y/N stood on deck, resting her elbows on the edge of the ship. She watched as the white cliffs of her homeland disappeared beyond the horizon. The waves rocked the ship like a cradle, the sound of the water crashing against the wooden body of the vessel became a lullaby. The gentle sea breeze tousled Y/N’s hair, locks fell in front of her eyes so she had to blow them out of the way to continue enjoying the parting gift from the cook.

In the bundle she’d been given was berry sponge cake like the one the kitchens made for her nameday. The cake was cut into pieces that Y/N picked from, humming contently at the mouthwatering sweet taste. She would have to try and make the cake herself again. But first she needed to introduce herself to the kitchen staff wherever she was going to live in Dorne and make sure she wouldn’t be a bother. 

‘May I ask what you’re so happy to munch on?’ Oberyn seemed to appear out of thin air next to Y/N who jumped a centimetre into the air, nearly dropping the piece of cake in her hand. The prince smiled sweetly at her and Y/N felt stupid for reacting like that; but she had to admit that he was very serpent-like. No wonder they called him the Viper, he moved with such swiftness and grace. It was almost like a dance from the gods.

‘It’s from the cook. He made the same cake for my nameday and probably thought it would be a nice parting gift.’ Y/N pulled the opened bundle across the wooden rim of the ship and presented Oberyn with the few pieces of cake left. ‘You can have one if you’d like. I’m not too stingy with my food.’

Oberyn picked up a piece, inspecting it like it was something so much more intricate than a simple cake bite. ‘It has berries.’

‘I’ve been told you like berries.’

‘I do,’ Oberyn replied, then bit into the piece and nearly groaned with satisfaction. The sound travelled from Y/N’s ears straight to her core. Get it together, she scolded herself. She couldn’t go into a shock every time the man did something mildly sexual. If she was going to be Oberyn Martell’s wife, she’d have to get used to that. But ever since that one last conversation with Danaya, Y/N wasn’t exactly sure how intimate time she’d get to have with her soon-to-be husband so she took every little look, and word, and sound, and she let them fill her to the brim.

‘This is delicious! I will have to ask the cook at the Old palace to find the recipe and have this made at least once every month.’ Oberyn took another bite from the cake.

‘I know the recipe,’ Y/N said, ‘I can give it to your cook. That is if they don’t think I’m intruding.’

‘You,’ Oberyn chuckled ‘you are a most curious woman. You won’t be intruding, of course. But how do you know the recipe?’

‘The cook taught me how to do basic things around the kitchen. And then I learned a few more complex ones.’ Y/N explained joyfully, thinking of the many lessons she’d gone through in that place. The amount of eggs she’d broken on the stone floors or the steaks she’d nearly burned. ‘I wanted to make myself useful and as it turned out I grew incredibly close to the people who worked at the castle. I was already known to the gardeners, but after I started taking lessons on cooking I became friends with all the maids and servant boys.’

‘I could see that,’ Oberyn mused. ‘I’m glad they got to say goodbye to you. It must be hard for them to lose someone as kind as yourself.’

‘Oberyn!’ Y/N giggled, patting his arm, ‘no need to flatter me, I’ve already agreed to marry you.’ Oberyn started to notice how different Y/N became now that she was away from her stifling family. She was becoming more open and vivacious. By the time they reached the shores of Sunspear, she’d probably outwit him without breaking a sweat. Something Oberyn was secretly excited for. ‘But yes… it’s hard for me, too. A little bit. The staff was a family to me, if I have to be honest.’

She looked back towards where the highest tower of Silverwood had disappeared mere minutes ago, and now all anyone could see were miles and miles of open sea. 

‘If it will give you a peace of mind,’ Oberyn gently took one of her hands in his and pulled it towards himself, ‘Dorne is very excited to greet its new princess. I can speak for the family that you’re marrying into that you will be appreciated… for the person that you are. And nobody will ever make a fool out of you. I swear it.’

Y/N’s hand now rested above Oberyn’s heart as he said his vow to her. She felt the lavender strands at her finger tips and her smile grew even wider. She knew that his words were true and even if she couldn’t be sure of the kind of marriage she’d have with Oberyn, she was damn well certain that at least he wouldn’t let her feel the same way she’d felt over the many years she’d lived under Lord Grym’s roof. He could be her _friend_.

As the day drew to a close, the sky grew darker and the sun disappeared beneath the horizon in a flash of red, orange and pink. The wind became stronger and started pushing the ship’s mast left and right. The ship’s captain came to Oberyn to advise him to retire for the evening, saying that they’d arrive in Sunspear at dawn. Oberyn thanked the man and offered his hand for Y/N to take.

Manoeuvring down the stairs and through the small corridor that led to their cabins proved more difficult than expected. Oberyn had spent time on ships before and he could keep his balance just fine by simply widening the position of his feet on the ground and paying attention to the rocking of the ship in order to stay stable. Y/N, however, didn’t possess the same knowledge, clumsily knocking around the walls of the corridor. Oberyn wrapped an arm around her shoulders to guide her in front of him, but a particularly big wave that crashed against the side of the ship fouled that attempt. The force of the wave wasn’t that strong and Oberyn wouldn’t have lost his footing, but his brief moment of distraction was his undoing as he crashed into Y/N and the two fell against the wall. 

Oberyn caught himself on a nearby doorframe and waited for a moment between waves when he could pull his betrothed to her cabin. There was no other sound but that of the turbulent sea outside. And then another wave crashed on the opposite side of the ship, flinging the pair back so that Y/N was the one pushed up against Oberyn’s body. Her breasts were flush against his chest and if he wasn’t mistaken he could sense her rapid heartbeat through the layers of clothing they both wore. Oberyn tried moving again, but realised his leg was between Y/N’s own and that small action caused his thigh to rub against Y/N’s core.

The sound that left her lips was positively obscene. Her eyes fluttered for a mere second, the quiet moan drowned in the noise made by the sea, before her gaze shifted up to Oberyn’s. He wrapped an arm around her lower back, his coarse fingers brushing against the soft material of her dress. His trousers slowly began to get more constricting as his cock grew at the sound of the moan and the feeling of the young woman’s body pressed against his combined. Y/N’s awaited his next move with bated breath her hands slowly moving up from where they’d initially landed on Oberyn’s chest towards his shoulders.

The next gasp that left her lips was swallowed by Oberyn who kissed her, drawing her even closer. Y/N’s pussy rubbed sinfully against his thigh and Oberyn could swear he was ready to take her right there and then, even if exposed them to the eyes of anybody who walked down the stairs, or out of their cabin.

Oberyn trailed one hand over Y/N’s back, his fingers touching the little nacre button at the back of her neck. He contemplated on undoing it and seeing just how much more skin would the dress would reveal as it sagged around her shoulders. But he buried his hand in her hair instead to quell that urge. 

His tongue slipped through Y/N’s lips, drawing another sweet, sweet sound from her chest. He wanted to draw more of those noises from her pretty mouth. Y/N’s tongue seemed to come to life as she moved it in tandem with Oberyn’s, the two trying to overpower the other. His leg continued to move between Y/N’s, as she was practically riding his thigh. Oberyn really wanted to take her in the middle of the corridor, with her clothes still on and the possibility of them being seen. It was thrilling and dangerously intoxicating.

‘Stop,’ he groaned quietly into her mouth, pulling away. A thin trail of saliva was the only thing that still connected their lips and in a second it too was torn away. Y/N stared at him, confused and a little upset.

‘I’m s-sorry, did I— did I do something wrong?’ Y/N asked, her eyebrows scrunching as she was trying to comprehend the meaning behind that abrupt ending to the pleasure she was feeling at his hands. 

Oberyn moved his leg from in-between Y/N’s thighs and planted it firmly on the floor. The sea wasn’t as turbulent now and the two could stand up straight without too much effort. Y/N’s head dipped down in embarrassment so Oberyn took her face in his hands and lifted it up again. He kissed her one more time, this time softly and briefly. 

‘My dove, you did nothing wrong. If it were up to me I’d take you here, against the wall. And let everyone on this ship see me ravishing that pussy of yours.’

Y/N’s breath stuttered at his revelation.

‘But you deserve something so much more than a quick fuck in a corridor. And for that we both must wait.’ Oberyn kissed her forehead. He groaned, ‘Believe me, it’s _very_ hard for me to deny you right now.’

‘I can feel that.’ Y/N bit down on the smile that was pulling at her swollen lips. Her body was still pretty much pressed against Oberyn’s and she could feel his hard cock push into her abdomen, her pussy aching with desire. 

Without saying another word, Y/N let herself be guided towards her cabin. Oberyn pushed the door open for her, but before she closed it to retire _alone_ in her quarters, Y/N summed up the courage and boldness to pull Oberyn in for another kiss. ‘Goodnight, my prince,’ she whispered against his lips and took a step back into the cabin.

‘Sleep well, my dove’ Oberyn’s handsome face and the placid smile that adorned it were the last things Y/N saw before shutting the door.


	4. Chapter 4

A bell rang out into the quietness of the early morning, interrupting the dull sound of waves bumping along the ship’s body as it neared the dock at Sunspear. The dinging echoed through the hull, waking up everybody from their slumber. 

Everybody except Y/N as it seemed. She found it near impossible to sleep a wink after what transpired a few metres away from her cabin bed. In the middle of the fucking corridor. And every time she managed to close her eyes for more than a few minutes and begin to drift, her mind would conjure up the same image over and over again: Oberyn, dark and graceful as he was, towering over her with his leg between hers, kissing her, caressing her. Y/N would immediately awaken at the vivid memory, feeling the most pleasant heat settle in her crotch and her pussy start to tremble. 

The anticipation made it even harder for her to just roll over and try to fall asleep again. And in one of those moments of arousal, she sneaked a hand from her breasts to the hem of her sleeping gown, pulling it up until she grazed her aching core. She let out a shaky moan and ran a finger along the slit, her tips gathering the slickness that had started dripping out of her. 

Y/N recalled that moment in the corridor and the way Oberyn latched his lips onto hers like a man in thirst. She recalled his hands on her body, one tangled in her hair and the other exploring the curves of her thighs, the swell of her arse and oh! she wanted his hands on her pussy. She wanted him to touch her there, slip a finger inside her and pump it however he desired while his other hand played with her clit. Or instead he could put his mouth on her down there and drink her up. Lick around her bundle of nerves and inside her quivering folds the same way he did when he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. 

The thrill of being kissed by Oberyn Martell!

The movements of Y/N’s hand on her clit became more erratic, her heels digging into the soft mattress of her bed. Sweat was beading at her forehead. Y/N was desperately biting into her bottom lip, to quell the noises that threatened to burst out of her chest and into the quietness of the night. Or maybe if she let them come out, if she let Oberyn hear her whimper and moan to the thought of him, he’d come to her cabin and replace her fingers with his, bringing her to her moment of ecstasy.

Y/N came quick and hard, barely managing to stop herself from wailing at the rippling feeling that came over her. Her heart hammered against her ribcage and she couldn’t catch her breath for a long time after she removed her fingers from her pussy and slid the night gown back down. She closed her eyes shut and tried to regain her composure. Maybe now she’d be able to fall asleep, maybe the exhaustion would finally come down upon her like the waves that crashed against the portholes of her cabin. 

But even after that she could barely sleep. So when the bell rung out that they were arriving at the port in Sunspear, she sprung out of bed and changed out of her sleeping gown and into yesterday’s dress. Then a knock came at the door. Y/N rushed to open it, thinking it was Oberyn but was mildly disappointed when a servant boy bid her good morning and told her that they’re docking. Y/N thanked the young man and closed the door, exhaling all the nervousness and excitement that had welled up in her chest.

After making sure that she was presentable, Y/N walked out into the corridor and up the stairs towards the top deck. The sun was riding slowly in the sky, basking the world in a golden glow. The sea was much calmer than hours ago and the wind had ceased its howling around the sails. The air was brisk and a little cold, but promised warmth as the day continued on. Seagulls cawed excitedly above the ship, some diving down through the air and into the clear water to retrieve a fish or two.

Y/N was greeted by a few ship crew members and the captain who pointed to where prince Oberyn was standing. Y/N smiled at the sigh of her betrothed with his back straight and hands placed firmly on the ship’s railing. He was intently watching the shores of his homeland grow closer and closer.

Y/N stood next to him, sneaking a glance towards the man beside her. She admired his beautiful features — his dignified nose and high forehead, his beard and moustache that had tickled her face the night before.

‘Morning, my little dove,’ Oberyn whispered into the languid morning air. He continued staring straight ahead. ’I hope you had a good rest.’

Y/N felt heat rise up her neck as she thought about how she spent the night, especially the moment when she pleasured herself to the mental image of the very same man that stood beside her. 

‘I tried. I’m afraid I haven’t been on a ship for many years and have lost the ability to relax completely on one.’

Oberyn smiled and looked down at her. Y/N felt her chest flutter with adoration when she finally had his eyes focused on her. ‘Not much of an adventurer?’

‘Not allowed to be.’ Y/N shrugged. ‘Something that I hope you will change.’

Where the boldness came from, Y/N didn’t know exactly, but her response seemed to intrigue Oberyn. ‘Well, first’ he put a finger underneath her chin and turned her face towards the shore ‘let me introduce you to your new homeland.’

Y/N gasped when she saw the red sands of the Dornish beaches and the city of Sunspear which seemed to climb along the cliffs. At the very top stood a castle of white stone and golden domed roofs which seemed to glow in the sunlight. It was positively divine!

‘It’s magical,’ she sighed through a smile. As the ship drew closer to the dock, Y/N could make out different colours in the townhouses and the breeze carried perfumes of fruits and spices from the nearest market.

If Y/N had made a slight turn to her left, if she had just briefly glanced at Oberyn, she would’ve seen the unconfined fascination that crossed his features. The wrinkles that marred his forehead had disappeared as he relaxed and simply admired the woman standing next to him. 

The ship docked at Sunspear harbour. Arianne walked down the plank first and being the queenly woman the she is, she walk down towards the welcome party with the step of someone who’d defeated armies and slaughtered beasts single-handedly. Y/N thought how regal she looked even though her stature wasn’t that tall, her head not even surpassing the shoulders of the two guards who marched beside her, but she seemed to tower above all others. Arianne just had the posture of royalty. Y/N silently prayed she be able to reach even a meagre quarter of that level of confidence.

Next was Oberyn who walked in front of Y/N and gave her his hand to help her down the plank when his feet were firmly planted on solid ground. Y/N was happy to feel the stability that the cobble stone dock gave her and beamed at her betrothed. Finally in Dorne, she thought. Oberyn looped her arm around his while his other palm came down to covertly caress the skin of her knuckles that was now secure in the crook of his elbow. This made Y/N both relaxed and jittery.

Arianne turned back around to face the pair and smiled brightly, moving slightly to her left to reveal a young man (no older than Y/N’s youngest cousin) dressed in fine golden silks. He had dark hair, his fringe falling in tight little curls over his large forehead. His eyes were just the same as Arianne’s. This young man was indisputably a Martell.

‘My brother decided to welcome us himself,’ Arianne announced joyfully. ‘Trystane, this is Y/N.’

Trystane grinned from ear to ear and moved forward with the finesse of a cat rushing to a bowl of cream. He hugged Y/N around the waist, lifting her a few inches off the ground. His embrace was strong, maybe a little vice-like, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Y/N shrieked in delight, her hand dropping from Oberyn’s elbow, as the young prince gave her a little spin. She hadn’t experienced that much love and affection from a family member in years, but the warm feeling it gave her swiftly reminded her of days long gone when her father used to pick her up and spin her around the air in the same manner.

‘Hello, future auntie!’ Trystane exclaimed. Y/N felt her stomach bubble at the nickname. Auntie. Well, by marriage, yes. It just brought the marriage so close to reality and it made Y/N glad. Once Trystane had had enough of hugging, he carefully let her back down on the ground. Oberyn gave him a strict look before breaking into a wide smile himself and hugging his nephew around the shoulders, patting him on the back. ‘Uncle,’ Trystane nodded at his uncle once the two broke their embrace.

The welcome party moved away from the ship, leaving the servants to disembark. Y/N cast one look over her shoulder to see as one man guided Svila out of the ship’s depths. The mare looked happy enough, perhaps sensing she was back on familiar shores. 

Oberyn once again took Y/N’s hand and followed the rest of the company. Trystane pranced next to his sister, talking about his days in the Water Gardens and mentioning some girl named Mircella several times.

‘Mircella Lannister is engaged to my nephew,’ Oberyn whispered in Y/N’s ear which caused a chill to run its way from there straight to the end of her spine. The hairs on her hands and neck stood up straight and Y/N hoped that Oberyn hadn’t noticed (he did) and nodded along to his explanation. 

She wasn’t very familiar with this particular Lannister. She only knew she was one of the late King Robert and Queen Cersei’s daughter. It was said that she was gentle soul and very pretty, too. Y/N didn’t know that she was in Dorne. 

The walk to the Old palace was up a wide street with trees planted on either side that created a relative shade. There were people standing on the sides and poking their heads through their houses’ windows to look upon the group. As the sun began to raise in the sky, so did the temperature. For late spring, it was getting rather warm, and Y/N realised she’d really have to get used to the new climate soon. She could probably ask Arianne about any advice she had.

The gates to the palace were wide open, something that was uncommon at Silverwood. There were two guards in uniforms of browns and yellows, standing on each side of the gate with spears in their hands. There were golden plates hanging over their chests with the signature sun of the Martells. 

As they neared the courtyard, Y/N’s breath stopped in her chest as she stared out into the beauty that were the palace gardens. There were trees with with wide crowns whose branches twisted around like snakes, and trees that shot straight into the sky with only broad, elongated leaves at the very top. On the ground were neatly kept bulbous bushes, some with flowers, some without. They were organised in rows around the deviating pathways that spanned the entire garden. In the very middle was a wide opening with a fountain and the wind carried with itself a gentle spray of the fountain’s waters onto the arrivals. 

Arianne whipped around and looped her arm through Y/N’s, pulling her out of Oberyn’s hold. Y/N casted one look at her betrothed who gave her a reassuring nod before he had a servant rush towards him to inform him that he was needed elsewhere. 

‘Arianne, I’m leaving our dear guest in your capable hands,’ Oberyn informed the two women who were talking by the fountain. He directed his eyes to Y/N, ‘I will see you later, little dove. Until then.’

Oberyn bent down to kiss her hand and walked away with the servant hot on his heels. 

‘Don’t worry, he’s not always that busy.’ Y/N didn’t know she’d been staring at the place where Oberyn’s broad shoulders disappeared out of sight. Arianne smirked, ‘He’s not one for many council meetings. My father does that, but since he’s in the Water Gardens to recover, my uncle has been doing most of the state business.’

‘What is you father recovering from?’ Y/N asked.

‘Gout. Rich man’s disease.’ Arianne chuckled. ‘Well, the maester says it’s also brought upon by my father’s overindulgence in certain foods. Like his favourite goose liver pate. He was so angry when both the maester and the healers told him he was to stop eating that immediately.’

The two women strolled through the garden, the pebbles that made the walkways crackling under their shoes. Arianne was showing Y/N a particular path through some tall hedges that apparently led to a secluded alcove in the greenery when they were caught up by a maid, dressed in a light beige robe. 

‘Good morning,’ she bowed to the two women before saying, ‘the housekeeper sent me to inform you that Lady Y/N’s chambers have been prepared and her belongings have been sent there for unpacking.’

‘Thank you, Alla. Y/N, this is Alla, my handmaid. If you ever need me, but can’t find me, she’s my second in command.’

The handmaid, Alla, waved her hand dismissively. ‘Please, with all the shit I’m doing, I’m surprised I’m not the one in charge.’

The two laughed like friends and Y/N was astonished at the easiness with which a servant girl spoke to her mistress. It wasn’t a negative feeling; she was elated! She’d never seen such familiarity and it brought her great satisfaction to see how relaxed the handmaid seemed.

‘It’s very nice to meet you, Alla.’ Y/N smiled brightly at the other woman. 

‘Very nice to meet you too, Milady. I’m excited to finally see the woman who’s gonna tie down Prince Oberyn.’

‘Oh, he’s already tied down in my opinion,’ Arianne’s words sounded saucy and she wiggled her eyebrows at Y/N’s startled expression. She scoffed, ’You can’t tell me you haven’t seen the looks he’s been giving you. My uncle is quite enraptured with you, darling one.’

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. ‘I don’t— I don’t think he’s “enraptured” as you say.’ Y/N blushed, once more remembering the happenings of the previous night.

‘Oh, please.’ Arianne rolled her eyes before looking back at her handmaid. ‘He’s been looking at her with these love-stricken eyes, it’s endearing.’

Alla gasped excitedly, ‘Oh, I can’t wait to see this for myself. Very few people can say they’ve really caught the eye and affections of our prince.’

‘Most have caught other things,’ Arianne laughed at her naughty quip.

Y/N stared at her in shock before she two broke into a fit of giggles.

‘Well, Ellaria did have his affections for the longest time.’ Alla shrugged. Y/N’s laughter died on her tongue as she pondered over the handmaid’s words.

There were many stories about Ellaria Sand. Prince Oberyn’s paramour, or former one as the rumours suggested. It was said she was a tall and slender woman and the Gods had gifted her with supreme beauty. And she was the mother to four Oberyn’s daughters. It was said that his love for her was one made for ballads and legends. 

Y/N felt her belly quiver with uneasiness; if Oberyn had truly loved Ellaria so much, could he ever give her the same amount of affection, or even half of it? Would she have to make-do with what was left? Or was she foolish for believing that Oberyn could ever come to love her?

She didn’t think she was anything special. If anything, Y/N thought she was a very uninteresting person — beliefs which had been reinforced time and time again by her family. She was small of height and not really slender like Arianne. And if the stories were true, she thought, there was no way she could surpass the beautiful Ellaria in looks. 

Arianne had sensed that her new friend was beginning to spiral down in a dark hole and masterfully manoeuvred the conversation to a new subject. She was — after all — an accomplished diplomat. She exchanged a couple of more words with her handmaid, before telling her that she was going to take Y/N some more around the gardens, show her the palace and lead her to her chambers to rest.

When the two women were once again alone, Arianne led Y/N to a secluded stone bench under an arch of sweet-smelling roses. ‘Will you tell me what’s bothering you?’

Y/N looked back at Arianne and sighed, shaking her head. ‘It’s nothing to trouble you with.’

‘If it’s about what Alla said, about Ellaria… I can assure you her and my uncle are no longer romantically or sexually involved. They parted ways as friends and remain devoted to their children.’ Arianne explained, slowly and patiently.

‘I don’t think I’ll ever hold Oberyn’s affections in the same way.’

‘Of course, you won’t,’ Arianne cupped Y/N’s cheek, bringing her face up. ‘We never love two people the same. Love isn’t set in stone, it’s not a straight-set path that you must follow. My uncle was… passionate for Ellaria. He loved her fiercely, but what I see in his eyes when he thinks nobody notice is a seed of something so much more sweet and gentle.’

‘But I’m nothing special.’

‘Is this what you think?’ Arianne asked softly. ‘Or is this what your family has made you believe?’

Her words struck a cord and Y/N looked down at her lap. She pressed a thumb to the centre of her palm, massaging the spot as she’d done many times when overcome by anxiety. 

‘I can assure you that my uncle doesn’t see you like that. If you pay attention to his behaviour and his words around you, _little dove_ ,’ Arianne used the nickname Oberyn had started using for Y/N with a knowing look, ‘you’ll see that he’s become very interested in you. What of your affections?’

Y/N thought, really thought about it and couldn’t find anything to prove that what she felt for Oberyn was anything but something strong. He was handsome, of course, and incredibly kind, and there was a fire within him that seemed to fill Y/N as well. She had only kissed him a handful of times, but every touch of his lips on hers brought with itself a sense of serenity. And after having pleasured herself to the thought of him simply touching her, Y/N couldn’t negate the fact Oberyn had slowly began to inch his way into her heart. 

‘I feel… very strongly about him. It could be simply because I haven’t known kindness like his in a long time, but I get this sense of,’ she waved her hand trying to find the right word, ‘just calmness and excitement. He… He’s kissed me a few times and it’s just so— so—‘

‘It’s alright if you can’t find words. I’ve noticed that happens when someone is feeling a lot for one person.’ Arianne smiled kindly. 

This still didn’t stop Y/N from anxiously asking herself if Danaya’s harsh words of warning — that her soon-to-be husband would continue his way of life, from bed to bed, despite being married — would be true. Y/N didn’t want to force Oberyn into a life he did not want, she certainly did not have any intention of chaining him to herself. But she hoped for a marriage of truth a devotion. She knew her heart would never allow her to look at another man, _another person_ , now that her eyes saw only Oberyn. But what of his thoughts and desires.

‘You should tell Oberyn how you feel and have a frank conversation. You’ll be his wife in a few days! My parents have never kept a secret from the other and claim that the foundation to a good marriage stands on honesty.’

Y/N nodded, ‘I will try.’

Arianne got up from the bench, pulling Y/N along and the two walked towards a nearby door in the palace walls. She patted Y/N’s hand as a cheeky grin pulled at her mouth. ’Just so you know, I will also be very glad to call you auntie.’

* * *

Y/N’s chambers were probably the largest she’d ever seen. Certainly bigger than any room in Silverwood castle but then again the Old palace was at least twice the size of Silverwood. It was bright and airy, the most notable feature being the floor-to-ceiling, arched windows with milk white, voile curtains that billowed at every gust of wind that entered through the opened windows. The air in Sunspear seemed to carry so many pleasant scents that it was impossible to imagine anyone ever feeling despair; the gardens in the Old palace also produced their natural sweet, perfumes that filled Y/N’s nose and she sighed dreamily. 

Arianne walked towards the windows first, leading Y/N onto the balcony. It wasn’t long or wide, but it was close to the ground and oversaw a different part of the gardens. There was a dark green vine climbing up the wall and the foliage spilled over and through the gaps of the stone railing. 

‘This room is only temporary,’ Arianne explained, leaning against the balcony railing. ‘But you want to keep a separate room from my uncle, then it will be arranged.’

‘I’ll talk to him about it.’ Y/N closed her eyes, inhaling the flowery smells in the air. ‘Oh, I could get used to this. This garden is… spectacular.’

Arianne chuckled, ‘And it’s not the only one.’ She laughed out harder when Y/N whipped around her head with the most surprised look. ‘There is another garden on the other side of the palace. It’s mostly orchards and vegetable patches that we grow here, but I believe you will like the Water Gardens best.’

‘Where is that? I can’t remember if you mentioned before?’

‘Our family’s residence outside of Sunspear.’ Arianne pointed in the direction of where — Y/N assumed — the Water Gardens were. ‘About twenty minutes by horse. It’s where I, and my cousins grew up. And also where my father stays for his health. But he will come down for the wedding. The whole Martell family will.’

Y/N paused, ‘Will Oberyn’s daughters come? And Ellaria.’

‘I believe Obara, Nymeria and Tyenne should be arriving tomorrow. Ellaria and her daughters will be on their way soon, to arrive just in time for the wedding.’ Arianne looked back at Y/N who was absent-mindedly pursing her lips. ‘Are you nervous?’

‘No, not really.’ Y/N shook her head. ‘I hope they don’t think ill of me. Especially Ellaria. I just— I don’t want to rub anyone the wrong way.’

‘Well, in my humble opinion,’ Arianne wiggled her eyebrows jokingly, ‘they will love you. Just be your usual sweet self, that I’ve grown to know and like, and you’ll be just fine. Obara is a tough nut, but don’t let that dishearten you, she’s really a—‘

Arianne was interrupted by a petite woman in the same attire as Alla, who walked into the room, curtsying to the two women. She carried some sort of long, bright coloured fabric in her arms.

‘Ah, Jenne! Right on time!’ Arianne exclaimed happily upon seeing the young maid. ‘Y/N, this is Jenne, she will be your handmaid.’

‘Handmaid?’ Y/N’s eyes darted between the two. She wasn’t aware that she was going to have a handmaid. It hadn’t even crossed her mind, but now she was unsure of what to say or do. Should she say thank you? Should she tell Jenne to do something? Perhaps a greeting would be a good start. ‘It’s very nice to meet you.’

‘Same goes to you, Lady Y/N. You’re the talk of the entire palace.’

‘No need to frighten her, Jenne.’ Arianne said. ‘Alla already tried to do that. Our Y/N should be immune by now.’

‘Not entirely immune, but at least aware.’ Y/N breathed out a sigh that carried a light chuckle. ‘It’s good to know that people find me interesting, Jenne.’

Jenne nodded with a smile before her eyes widened a little and she seemed to remember that she was holding something. ‘Oh! I’ve been sent to give you this.’ She grabbed the top of the fabric and let it flow to the ground. It was a honey-coloured dress the skirt of which was altering between the yellow and a beautiful shade of orange. Y/N reached towards the dress, running a hand down the silk garment. ‘His Highness has requested that you join him for dinner. He said it’s entirely your choice if you wish to wear the dress or pick another one.’

Y/N felt her entire face and neck heat up like she was directly exposed to the sun. ‘Oh, I— perhaps, it will be a nice gesture. And the dress is— is beautiful.’

Arianne hummed in agreement, trying to contain how satisfied she was by the situation. ‘Someone is missing their dove,’ she muttered under her breath.

‘Wonderful. I will help you dress and I’ll take you to His Highness’s chambers.’

‘His— w-what?’ Y/N spluttered.

Arianne smirked while Jenne seemed perplexed by Y/N’s question.

‘His Highness dines in his chambers, of course. Unless there is an official dinner at the palace.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Arianne turned Y/N towards herself, catching both of her hands in hers. She gave them a light squeeze which did manage to put Y/N at ease, at least a little bit. ‘Go have dinner with Oberyn. And if you don’t want to do something, you tell him so. Nobody can touch you without your explicit permission. Alright?’

‘Alright.’

Arianne beamed in triumph, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. ‘Now, Jenne. I believe you must get _our dove_ ready for her dinner with His Highness. Make her even more beautiful than she already is.’

* * *

Y/N followed Jenne down the wide, brightly lit corridor, that led from her chambers to Oberyn’s. The handmaid assured her that the distance wasn’t at all big and it would do well to know the path from one room to the other. Y/N wondered if that would be a common occurrence, her walking between her room and her husband’s. That was what Lord and Lady Grym did, but Y/N never thought their case to be the norm.

The arched openings on one side of the corridor revealed the gardens below which looked just as good in the early evening. Servants strolled around lighting up torches that casted shadows on the pebbled ground. The wind hummed through the crowns of the trees and the courtyard was filled with the last birdsongs of the day and the soft chirp of crickets. 

Jenne stopped in front of a large door and knocked twice. The affirmative answer she received from the other side was dulled by the heavy wood, but Jenne smiled and opened the door just a smidge. Y/N took a deep breath and walked through, feeling the door close behind her with a thud. 

Oberyn was standing next to a small table that was placed by the massive arched windows. His hand was perched onto the back of one of the chairs as he looked out into the distance. Once the sound of the door closing shut reached his ears, he turned his head and softly smiled at his guest. 

Y/N’s heart fluttered in her chest as she greeted the man with a quick curtsy. ‘My prince.’

Oberyn’s smile grew wider and he quite unapologetically let his eyes rake over the entirety of Y/N’s body. From her hair, which was now styled the Dornish way, to the dress which he sent for her. The fabric clung to her bosom in the best of ways, revealing a small part of the valley between her breasts. The dress was tightened by a single thing strap just above her waist, letting the skirt of the dress flow freely towards her feet like a golden shower.

‘My dove,’ Oberyn spoke quietly and walked towards Y/N. ‘I’m very honoured that you accepted my invitation.’

‘I couldn’t imagine turning it down,’ She replied, testing her boldness. Oberyn’s let out a short breathe chuckle, scratching his beard. He couldn’t drop his eyes from her and to Y/N that only brought a new surge of confidence. ‘I thank you for the beautiful dress.’

She clasped her hands behind her back and took one step towards him.

‘It’s you who holds the beauty,’ Oberyn specified. ‘The dress is merely accentuating it.’

Y/N dipped her head and looked up at Oberyn through her lashes. For a second she could swear that the man before her appeared… entranced.

However, he quickly regained his composure and invited her to sit down with him at the small table. The plates were already filled with deliciously looking and smelling foods: fresh salad, grilled fish, fruits and to the side was a decanter with wine. Oberyn helped Y/N into her chair and gently pushed it towards the table. He took his own seat in front of her and poured wine into her goblet. 

‘I hope you’re happy with your chambers,’ Oberyn began once the pair started eating. He was leaning back in his chair, picking up grapes and slowly placing them between his lips. Y/N watched as the tiny fruits disappeared into his mouth and felt heat pool between her legs, so she squeeze them together and covered her shaky inhale by drinking some of the wine. 

‘I am. This palace is beautiful. And the gardens!’

‘I’m glad. This is going to be your home after all. I wish for you to feel happy here.’

‘I already am,’ Y/N admitted softly and tilted her head, ‘You’ve shown me more kindness in these last few days than I probably deserve. And before that with your correspondence. ’

‘You deserve it,’ Oberyn said. ‘And more. I hope I can give you that… especially once we’re married.’

Married.

Y/N bit her lips and decided that now was her chance to speak to Oberyn about it all. Have an honest conversation like Arianne said. It wouldn’t hurt and Oberyn had certainly never showed signs that he’ scorn her for anything that she was curious about. 

‘I want to speak to you about that.’

Oberyn put his fork down and straightened his shoulders. His face remained still though.

‘Are you having second thoughts?’

‘No, no,’ Y/N laughed, ‘of course not. I am… happy to be marrying you. I do not wish to imagine how different my life would’ve been if I’d been given off to someone like my uncle.’

‘I do not wish to picture that either,’ he said frankly with faraway, dark look in his eyes.

‘I just…’ Y/N paused, thinking over her next words. ‘I understand that you’re a man who’s had many… relations in his life. A-and that you keep a certain life style that I would never wish to force you out of. It— It’s not my intention to change you, or chain you, because I would never even dream of doing that. And I know how ridiculous sounding this will make me, but I-I really want you to know that…’ 

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart beating so hard in her chest, she was sure Oberyn would be able to hear it. Hear how nervous she was, how hard it was for her to bar her feelings like that. For him. 

She gulped, ‘If you wish to… see other people. O-or visit establishments,’ she looked down at her plate, her mouth dry, ‘I would not stop you. I don’t wish for you to feel obliged to—‘

She stopped there and took a large sip from her wine. She couldn’t look Oberyn in the eye. She couldn’t lift her head. Her confidence had suddenly flown out of the opened window. 

‘Come here.’ Oberyn suddenly said. His voice was tender, like he was talking to a frightened animal. Exactly how Y/N felt. She finally summed up the courage to raise her head just in time for Oberyn to repeat his request. ‘Come here. Please.’

Y/N slowly got up and moved around the table, standing next to Oberyn. He pushed his chair back and took one of her hands, pulling her into his lap. Y/N gasped.

‘I’m too heavy—‘

‘You’re not.’ Oberyn stopped her with a finger to her lips. He slowly moved it down to her chin and lifted it a little so their faces were at the same level. Oberyn burrowed his brows as he watched the uncertainty in Y/N’s eyes. He could feel the chills run over her body. He gently put his large hand on her cheek, cupping her face in his palm. Y/N sighed, visibly relaxing and leaning a little into his warm touch.

‘I will not lie to you,’ Oberyn spoke slowly, 'when my brother told me I was to be married, I was angry. I thought that at this age it just didn’t matter anymore. But then we began our correspondence, I met you. And — beyond understanding — I let myself be placed under your spell.’

‘Believe me, I hold no such power.’

‘Oh, but you do,’ Oberyn said. ‘You hold some power over me that I do not wish to part from. You are the clear pond in the desert and I am nothing but a dirty traveller who is bending down over the waters to drink in life. I cannot comprehend how a woman as pure and perfect as you could be tied down to an old man like me.’ Oberyn shook his head. ‘If this is the Gods rewarding me for something good that I did in my life then… I cannot possibly turn down their gift.’

Oberyn removed his hand form Y/N’s cheek and held her much tinier hand in his, bringing it to his heart and keeping it there.

‘It has been some time since I last sought out a lover for the night. And I swear to you that my intentions in entering this union with you, my dove, are completely honest. Once we’re married, there will be no other. I take my vows very seriously and my vow to you will be one of eternal devotion. You’ve made this old heart beat after so long and I wish not to be parted from that feeling any longer.’

Y/N leaned in and pressed her lips against Oberyn’s. She felt the rush of emotions swarm over her mind and the only thing she could do to show her betrothed just how much his words meant to her was through a kiss. 

Oberyn took her face in his hands, tenderly holding her there and deepening the kiss, until he drank the first little moan that escaped Y/N’s throat. Oberyn put on hand on her thigh, trying to bring her as close to him as possible. His fingers dug into the soft flesh, the fabric of the dress bunching up underneath his palm.

The two parted for less than a second and left little to no space between their faces. Oberyn kissed Y/N’s chin, his teeth fondly grazing the skin. ‘Gods, you really have put me under a spell , my dove.’

‘And I told you that I can do no such thing,’ Y/N chuckled. Her eyes fluttered shut once Oberyn moved his lips to the column of her neck, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses. 

‘My dove. The sounds you made last night. And only by riding my thigh. I wonder what noises you’d make when I have you naked in our wedding bed. Oh, you will surely sound divine.’

Y/N sighed as Oberyn’s mouth stopped at her shoulder. He moved the wide strap of her dress to the side, the fabric sagging a little, and kissed her there. 

‘I touched myself,’ Y/N admitted quietly, immediately drawing Oberyn’s attention. Two flames lit up in his eyes as he lifted his head from her shoulder. His mouth pulled into a satisfied grin.

‘You touched yourself.’ He repeated her words back to her. His voice dropped low. He wrapped one arm around Y/N’s waist while the other one which until now was clutching the fabric of her skirt was now expectantly playing with it. ‘Where?’

‘Between my legs,’ Y/N said even more quietly. Oberyn raised his brows as a silent ask for permission which she granted with a nod, his hand lifting the skirt until he could slowly inch his hand underneath it. Y/N’s heart hammered once more but this time it was not fear, but excitement. And pleasure. She sighed when Oberyn’s hand stopped below her pulsating cunt. It felt torturous. 

‘Here?’

‘H-higher.’ Y/N sighed, her forehead dropping against Oberyn’s. ‘Please.’

Oberyn slid her hand just where she needed him most. He ran two fingers between her lips, feeling the slickness that had started dripping out of her at his touch. He pressed one finger against her clit and circled around the little bud once. The noise that Y/N made went straight to his bulging cock. It pressed through his trousers into the side of Y/N’s thigh and she giggled. 

‘You feel how hard you make me, little dove? It’s impossible not to be with the sounds you make.’

In answer, Y/N confidently moved one of her hands down to the belt buckle of his robe. Once it was released, Y/N pulled Oberyn’s linen shirt out of the way and untied the little strings of his trousers. She pushed her hand underneath the fabric, her fingers touching Oberyn’s hard cock. The man himself watched her actions with slightly pursed lips, the breath stopping in his chest immediately when she wrapped her soft hand around his shaft. Oberyn’s head fell against the headrest of his chair and his eyes rolled back. 

‘That’s it, my dove,’ he praised. ‘Your hand feels so good.’

Oberyn rubbed her clit, finding the way she liked it, the movements that made her breath stutter and moans spill out of her lips. His own vision was becoming cloudy with desire as Y/N’s hand pumped him underneath his trousers. He couldn’t contain his desire and fuelled all that he felt in a long, passionate kiss. He licked into her mouth, her tongue facing his in a heated, love-battle for dominance which Oberyn let her win. 

Y/N cupped his face with her free hand, whimpering into his mouth as the Oberyn’s hand movements beneath her skirt became quicker. It seemed that he’d learnt all her sensitive spots in a few seconds and was bringing her closer and closer to the edge. So her own hand moved faster. She gathered the precum at the tip of his cock and used it to glide her hand better over his skin. 

‘Yes, my dove.’ Oberyn groaned into her mouth. ‘Oh, you touch me so well! Fuck.’

‘Oberyn,’ Y/N sighed, her eyes closed tight in pleasure.

‘Look at me, my dove. I want to see your eyes as you come all over my fingers. I’m—‘

‘I want you to come in my hand, Oberyn.’

‘Ngh— yes! Oh, my dove!’

Each guided the other towards the brink of completion. Y/N’s half-lidded eyes were staring right into Oberyn’s. Her whole body convulsed as his fingers masterfully circled around her clit once more. Y/N felt her whole abdomen twist and burn with pleasure. Her eyes rolled to the back of her hair as Oberyn’s touch brought her into a moment of stillness and then all came crashing down as the most wanton sounds erupted from her chest. White light flashed before her eyes as her hand made the final stroke which had Oberyn coming with a stifled groan.

Y/N sagged against him, breathing heavily. Her free hand clutched against Oberyn’s biceps as she tried to regain even a little bit of her composure. Oberyn on the other hand was not much better, his breaths coming in short and fast. He pulled his hand from between Y/N’s thighs and grabbed at a piece of cloth from the table. He then dipped his free hand underneath the waistband of his trousers and tugged Y/N’s away from his softening cock. He wiped his cum from her palm and fingers and let the cloth drop on the ground by his chair. 

Y/N gazed at him through weary eyes, but the smile on her face couldn’t budge for a second. She dipped down to kiss her betrothed once more and pulled away. ‘Don’t you want to use that to clean your hand as well?’

Oberyn bit down on the smirk that wanted to take precedence on his face, placed his fingers to his lips and licked them clean of Y/N’s juices. His eyes never left hers. Once they were clean, he let his hand drop down on her thigh where the fabric of her skirt was now terribly wrinkled. He let out a deep, happy sigh as he stared into the woman before him. 

He lifted the hand that until now was wrapped around her waist and placed it on her cheek. Y/N smiled dreamily and leaned into the touch, her own hands coming up to hold onto Oberyn’s much larger one. She turned her face for just a moment and left one tender peck onto the calloused skin of his palm. 

‘Stay,’ Oberyn whispered. ‘Please, stay with me tonight.’ 


	5. Chapter 5

The Old Palace was bustling with excitement over the upcoming wedding of Prince Oberyn and Lady Y/N. They’d been the talk of all Dorne, but specifically in Sunspear where the couple now resided people were beyond exhilarated. They were curious as well to see what the young lady would make of herself in her new country. She hand’t been a full day in Dorne and the streets were already loud with conversation about her. All good, of course.

‘Someone saw her walking with the prince when she was arrived to Sunspear!’

‘Well, Yura told me that the young lady has been very kind to her daughter Jenne. She’s apparently going to be the future princess’s handmaid!’

‘Mama, can we go see the princess? Please, I’ll do my chores. Can we see her? Can we?’

‘What matters is that she make a good partner to the prince.’

‘I heard someone say that she has the most beautiful smile.’

While the people went about their morning duties and tasks, exchanging a few words of greeting and then going into long-drawn conversations about the soon-to-be princess, Y/N was just then waking up. First thing she noticed was that she was warm, the sun was heating up her shoulders and the long strip of skin that her backless dress revealed. But it didn’t bother her. She’d never woken up so well rested. Second thing she noticed was that her head was buried in a strong, broad chest. Just planes of soft, golden skin. A chain was pressing against her forehead and her ear was just above a heart which thumped in a rhythm that promised to lull her back to sleep. Third thing she noticed were the large hands the were holding her close, giving her a sense of security. 

Oberyn.

Y/N hummed contently, wrapping herself tighter around his warm body. If she could just sink deeper into his touch she would’ve done that in a heartbeat. The man beneath took a deep breath and as his chest rose so did Y/N who bit her lip to stifle her giggle. 

‘Good morning, my dove.’ His deep, morning voice rumbled in his chest, vibrating against the skin of Y/N’s cheek. She picked her head up and smiled at the groggy man. Oberyn rubbed the sleep from his eyes with one hand and once he got his bearings, he looked down at the woman in his arms and grinned. 

‘Good morning, my prince.’ Y/N fully laid her upper body on his chest, her legs tangled with his. She raised her eyebrows at him, expectantly and Oberyn’s grin grew wider. He rolled them over, trapping a giggly Y/N underneath his body. 

‘If waking up to this beautiful smile is what awaits me, then let me call the maester and have him wed us immediately.’ Oberyn buried his face in the crook of Y/N’s neck, peppering her skin in chaste kisses. Y/N’s laughed harder, rapping her hands on his back.

‘Oberyn, you’re beard is tickling me!’ She snorted and Oberyn lifted his head with a feigned look horror on his face.

‘Gods!’ He ran a hand through the dark hairs on his chin and upper lip. ‘It is tickly. What should I do now? Hmmm…’ 

He looked back at Y/N who smirked and tapped a finger against her lips. Oberyn got her meaning and without a second to waste he placed his lips on hers, tenderly kissing her. Y/N cradled his jaw in her hands, bringing him even closer to herself. 

And just when Oberyn’s hands started trailing down her sides and starting to lift her dress up her body, Y/N gently pushed him away and hopped off the bed, stretching her arms over her head

‘I need to get back to my room.’ She announced, turning around to face Oberyn who sat back against the headboard of his massive bed. He looked both disappointed that he couldn’t touch the beautiful woman who was now shuffling around his room, trying to find her belt and shoes, and impressed at her growing confidence around him. He knew it was there, underneath her shell. He just needed to help her crack it open and break free.

Y/N slipped on her shoes. ‘Jenne has promised to give me a full tour of the grounds and introduce me to the staff.’

‘Stay a little longer, my dove.’ Oberyn pouted.

Y/N flung a hand over her forehead and gasped dramatically. ’And what will people say when they discover I’ve slept in your bed?! Oh, the scandal!’

Oberyn laughed full-heartedly. He stretched out a hand which she took and he pulled her to sit down on his bed. ’They will think I’m taking my husbandly duties very seriously.’

‘You’re not my husband yet.’ Y/N clarified, pecking Oberyn’s pursed his lips. ‘But don’t you worry, just one more day and then it’s just until the rest of our lives.’

‘Hmm,’ he felt his chest warm up at her words. ‘Lady Martell. It will suit you. Much better than Grym.’

‘Yes,’ Y/N stood up and bent down to plant one last kiss against his lips, ‘and what a darling husband I’ll have.’

Oberyn thought about pulling her down and wrapping himself around her, making her a constant part of his bed. But he held back, instead enjoying the sight of her with bed hair and the sunlight glowing around her.

‘Will I see you around the palace today?’ Y/N asked, taking Oberyn’s hand in hers.

‘Yes, well, three of my daughters are arriving today.’ Oberyn explained, noting the unchanged expression on the young woman’s face. She calmly traced the skin on his knuckles. ’I was hoping to introduce you to them. The other four are arriving with Ellaria tomorrow for the wedding.’

‘I will be very happy to meet them,’ Y/N whispered, leaving a soft peck on Oberyn’s knuckles. ‘But I need to go now, I don’t want to keep Jenne waiting.’

‘I will find you when the girls arrive then.’ Oberyn called after her as she hurried out of his room in a cloud of billowing, golden silk and sweet laughter. 

* * *

Jenne was already waiting in Y/N’s room when she rushed in, blabbering apologies about not knowing the time and being terribly late. The handmaid looked smug but made no comment, noting the dishevelled appearance of the other woman. She got to work, helping her out of the wrinkled dress and into a fresh one. 

This dress, much like the last one, covered very little and Y/N felt her entire face heat up as she tried it on. She was still not really used to the Dornish fashion, having been brought up around the conservative views of her former family. Lady Grym was sure to have a heart attack if she ever saw the clothes Y/N was wearing. Her opinion didn’t matter anymore, she thought gladly and ran her fingers through the ruffles in the fabric.

The dress itself was absolutely magnificent. The silk was light and hand-dyed in a warm, peach colour. It was sleeveless and backless, with a very daring décolletage. As Jenne tied a thin leather strap just below her breasts, Y/N thought it was almost impossible for a new dress to fit her so perfectly. 

Jenne seemed to catch on her wonder and explained that she made the dress herself. Last night. Y/N was astonished and went into another apologetic rant, saying that she loved the dress, but didn’t want to overwork anybody. Jenne promised that it really wasn’t a bother since she had lots of free time after she left Y/N at Oberyn’s door, metres of unused fabric just laying around her own chambers, and a talented eye for spotting one’s measurements. 

‘Besides, dressmaking is my passion,’ Jenne said lastly. ‘And while I’m your handmaid, you will never look out of place.’ 

Y/N beamed at the other woman. It felt so wonderful to have someone who was ready to sew you an entire dress overnight just to make you look nice. She knew she’d have to make up to her in some way, but first she just had to figure out _how_ exactly.

Jenne then spent the better part of the morning, leading Y/N around the palace. She showed where each corridor led to, showed her short cuts from her room to any important location in the Palace — the throne room, the dining hall, any place that she’d need to familiarise herself with as the new Lady Martell. The two then descended into the lower parts of the Palace, entering the kitchens. And even though they were semi-interred, the windows at the very top of the tall stone walls allowed enough light to brighten up the entire place, while the chefs, cooks and other servants went about their work. 

They all bowed their heads in respect when Y/N appeared into the main kitchen area. Jenne introduced her to the chef who was excited to know if Y/N enjoyed the meal h personally prepared for her and the prince the day before. She promised him that she’d never had anything as delicious which brought a great smile to the man’s face. In return, he presented his subordinates to her. The other cooks were just as kind and eager to meet the Prince’s betrothed, but didn’t chat to her for too long since all were busy in preparation for the wedding feast. 

‘I assure you, Milady.’ The chef said. ‘The cake will be so grand and delicious that when they write songs about your wedding, they will have to dedicate an entire verse just to the cake.’

Y/N chuckled, shaking the man’s hands. ‘I am sure of it. I won’t keep you any longer, it was a pleasure meeting you all.’

And the last place they visited was the library. And if Y/N was impressed by the Palace’s gardens, she was simply astounded at the sheer magnitude of this particular room. Or hall to be precise. The gilded ceiling was tall and domed, and as the light entered through the even larger stained glass windows, the library was filled with golden light. It was surely a god who was the architect behind this magnificent creation. Y/N noticed that the forms, drawn on each window, were large suns each one just as beautiful and intricate as the next. And then there were the bookcases. The bookcases formed rows of wooden towers, overflowing with books and scrolls. There were tables with just as many parchments and catalogues scattered on their worktops. And at the very end of the enormous room was the librarian’s desk but the person — whoever they were — were not at their post. Probably walking around and who wouldn’t when you work inside such an extraordinary place. 

Y/N he’d never seen anything like it. She vaguely remembered the cramped little library in Silverwood that quite distinctly smelt of mould. Her Papa used to bring her there nonetheless, wanting to nurture her love for the written word as much as him. If she closed her eyes, she could recall the sight of him in his armchair, in front of his fireplace with a large tome that described glorious battles and everlasting love stories. But after his passing, after Y/N was under Lord Grym’s _care_ , she was never allowed back into the mouldy library or anywhere near a book. Books give women ideas and that’s not what the Gods made you for, the old man would grunt. 

So the first thing Y/N did when she passed by the nearest bookshelf was grab a book. Her uncle couldn’t stop her. He’d chosen to give her away, he’d made it known that she was no longer his responsibility or part of his family. Y/N grabbed a second book, and a third, until she had a small tower resting on her hands.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to settle for just one?’ Jenne asked jokingly.

Y/N put down the pile on a nearby desk and examined the titles. ‘I haven’t read read anything in years. I want to soak up as much knowledge as I can.’

‘Well, I’d start with this one,’ Jenne pointed to a red leather book with golden lettering. Y/N pulled it from the pile and examined the title. Jenne said, ‘Full history of the Dorne and the Martell family. Anything from their family tree to traditions we have in our country. I’ve read it four times.’

Y/N stared at her, beyond bewildered. ‘You can read?’

‘Everybody can. This library is open to all.’ Jenne smiled at the thousands upon thousands tomes on the bookshelves. ‘I’ve brought my little brothers here on many occasions. They were against it at first but after a few tries, they got absolutely mad for the story books.’ She turned back towards Y/N with a happy look on her face. ‘What about you? Did you read through the entirety of your library?’ 

She was joking. But Y/N felt little joy come to her at the quip. ’We weren’t allowed. My un— Lord Grym didn’t allow servants, and especially women to read. His own family included. The only real reading I did in the past years were His Highness’s letters to me.’ She smiled sadly. ‘Nobody else had written to me before.’

Jenne’s face fell and she placed a comporting hand on Y/N’s shoulder. ‘Trust me, take this book first. You won’t do much but give yourself a headache, if you jump into this whole pile.’ 

Y/N nodded and held the red book to her chest while her and Jenne returned the others to their places. They couldn’t find the librarian so Jenne walked around their desk and wrote down the name of the book and the date in the library’s ledger. As they left the room, Y/N cast one last glance at the beautiful place, vowing to make it one of her regular ones to visit when she wanted some peace and quiet. 

* * *

Jenne and Y/N were sitting on the edge of the fountain in the garden, while Y/N told her stories about the little garden in Silverwood, or Roland and the other gardeners who taught her how to plant, grow and care for any flower, bush or tree. 

‘Are we interrupting you, ladies?’ Y/N’s whole demeanour perked up when she hear Oberyn’s voice and Jenne stifled a laugh at her reaction. Y/N immediately got to her feet to greet the man who was leisurely walking towards them. Behind him were three young women, all different in general appearance but each one having the same pair of dark brown eyes that Y/N had grown familiar with. Those must be his eldest daughters, she presumed. 

Oberyn himself looked just as stunning as ever, donning a long bronze-coloured jacket and his usual linen shirt that was wide open at his chest. But the most beautiful thing about him was the smile that adorned his face.

‘My dove,’ he greeted, kissing her hand. His lips lingered a second longer, his eyes burning into Y/N’s and she felt her breath hitch. 

‘My prince,’ she breathed out. 

While one hand was holding hers, his right one slid on the underside of her wrist, moving up until he reached her elbow, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His hand moved away from her arm and he placed it on her lower back, moving to stand on her side.

‘Y/N, allow me to introduce Obara, Nymeria and Tyenne. My three eldest Sand Snakes.’ Each nodded at Y/N, but Tyenne was the one to rush forward and hug her close. Y/N let out a surprised “oh!” but hugged the young girl back who beamed from ear to ear when she pulled back. 

‘We are so happy to have you here!’ Tyenne said. ‘Father told us very little about you in his letters. He certainly didn’t mention you were so pretty. Obara, Nymeria, isn’t she pretty!’

Nymeria agreed with a small smile while Obara simply observed Y/N with a calm but guarded look. Arianne did say that Obara was a tough nut to crack, but it was alright. Y/N didn’t expect all of them to warm up to her immediately. She opted for a more formal form of greeting (even though she quite enjoyed Tyenne’s hug) and offered her hand to the two older siblings who politely shook it. Oberyn’s hand on Y/N’s back rubbed soothingly and she felt herself relax a little more. 

‘Father,’ Obara turned to Oberyn with an unchanged expression, ‘We will see you later.’

She remained in place, hands behind her back. Y/N thought how much she resembled her father in the way she stood and spoke. Oberyn raised a quizzical brow and smirked under his moustache. Y/N watched him as his nodded his head towards his eldest daughter.

‘Right then,’ Oberyn bent down to kiss Y/N on the cheek, whispering a quick goodbye in her ear before turning on his heel and leaving the gardens.

Y/N looked back at the three other girls and then Jenne started laughing. 

‘Obara, you’re a treasure!’ She shrieked through laughs. Obara shrugged. Tyenne giggled at the young handmaid’s words. ‘I’ve never seen His Highness let himself be commanded like that.’

But he does. Y/N sneakily thought back to the previous night when her fingers were wrapped around his cock and she told him to come in her hand. The completely blown look in his eyes, and the shape of his mouth, and…

‘Y/N.’ Nymeria’s voice caught her attention, bringing her out of her little reverie and back to the gardens. ‘Walk with us?’

Her words were formed like a question, but Y/N knew that they were more of a semi-demanding invitation. She said nothing of her musings and simply smiled.

Tyenne looped her arm around Y/N’s and guided her down one of the paths that lead to a different part of the garden. There was a small flight of stairs that led into an open terrace type of space that overlooked Sunspear and the vast Sea of Dorne. On the walk there Tyenne was the one who asked questions. Trivial ones, nothing too pressing. What was her homeland like? The castle she was born in? Were the Stormlands really that stormy or was that pointless poeticism? Y/N answered each of her question without a problem. 

Y/N, Janne and Tyenne sat on a bench that was placed under an olive tree that seemed to be growing out of the rock and its curved crown was keeping shade over the bench. Nymeria sat against the tree trunk and Obara climbed on the short railing of the terrace, looking over the city like an eagle.

Tyenne was about to ask Y/N another series of questions but she stopped her with a gentle hand, ‘I’d love to answer all your questions, but I doubt you’ve brought me here to talk about trivialities.’

Tyenne snickered and Jenne leaned back, resting her arms over the back rest of the bench.

‘She’s spirited. I like that,’ Nymeria admitted, earning a dry look from Obara who was now pacing back and forth on the ledge. 

‘So whatever you want to ask — really ask — I am ready to tell.’ Y/N smiled calmly. ‘I have nothing to hide.’

‘It’s not much what we want to ask,’ Obara finally spoke to her and Y/N was a little surprised, not really expecting this sister to address her. ‘We wanted to see what you are.’

Nymeria, opting for a more diplomatic approach, corrected her sister. ‘What my sister is trying to say is that Father told us about your engagement, it was a shock. But he also seemed very taken in with you which was even a bigger surprise since he hadn’t met you yet.’

‘We wanted to know if you’re some sort of sorceress,’ Tyenne eagerly added. ‘Are you?’

Y/N chuckled, ‘Certainly not. Your father claimed something similar… recently. But I can assure you, I’m regular as one can be.’

‘You are not. That is obvious.’ Obara interjected again. ‘Father wouldn’t have bothered with someone who’s of little consequence. He also doesn’t give out praise just for the sake of it.’ 

‘You see,’ Nymeria tried to mend her sister’s words again, aiming a stern look at the eldest Sand Snake, ‘we never expected Father to marry. It didn’t seem like it was in his plans.’

‘So you wanted to make sure that he wasn’t being forced into anything or tricked,’ Y/N understood what the three sisters wanted. ‘I understand you.’

’Do you?’ Obara jumped back onto the terrace and walked slowly towards the others. Her dark eyes were trained onto Y/N’s eyes, as if trying to fish out any lies from her. ‘Do you understand?’

‘I wasn’t prepared either for this whole betrothal. My uncle arranged it with Prince Doran. And I think— I’m sure that his intentions weren’t brought upon by familial love, I guess he had enough of me and thought that marrying me off to a Dornishman would ruin me. But the fact of the matter is that your father has shown me more kindness and affection in the little time he’s known me, than any other member of my family has been in the many years I’ve known them,’ Y/N confessed. ‘I cherish your father and I— I am very _fond_ of him.’ That was not the full truth but the sisters didn’t need to know that yet. ‘We’ve spoken about what this marriage means and we both known how we’re to enter in it. As equals and as two people who admire each other very much.’

Out of the the entire group, Jenne seemed the one who was simply there to enjoy what was happening. She smiled like how you’d imagine a person who’s read a book before you to smile, knowing how the book ends and refusing to reveal a single thing. Unlike the Sand Snakes she prided herself on a quick judge of character and had the privilege of being member of the staff which allowed her to be a part of the largest gossip body in all of the Seven Kingdoms. She was certain she knew all she needed to know about Y/N, but the most satisfying part of the whole interaction between her and the three sisters was Y/N’s eloquently fighting this verbal battle. And she was winning. 

‘Now.’ Y/N sat back, looking between the three Sand Snakes in a calm manner. ‘Is there anything else you’d like to ask of me?’

* * *

Oberyn hadn’t gotten to see his daughters or his betrothed for the rest of the day. He’d been called into a meeting of the council and then had to meet with the septon to discuss the ceremony for tomorrow. Afterwards he ate a quick snack in the kitchens, listening to the chef’s praise of betrothed with a clouded head. In his mind, he was swarmed by the warm thoughts of her soft smile, expressive eyes and warm body. He hand’t even felt her bare skin against his yet and he was ready to fall on his sword for he if she so desired. 

Before leaving the kitchens, he thanked the chef and cooks for the meal and praised them for the hard work they’d been doing for his wedding feast. And then he walked up the stairs to one of the small doors which led into the gardens, deciding to take a quiet stroll in the twilight. 

Oberyn was walking down a pebbled path close to the Palace wall when he hear the quiet hum of a lullaby. His ears pricked at the unfamiliar tune and walked closer to the sound. In a few more steps he found himself standing by a tree and looking at Y/N herself. Soft and beautiful as ever in a pale night shift, perched on her balcony railing, brushing her hair. She hummed the song which Oberyn assumed must’ve been one she’d been sang to sleep and imagined how endearing it would be to see her sing it to a smaller version of herself. A smaller version of the two of them. 

Oberyn absentmindedly drew closer, a twig catching onto his jacket and snapping. The sound echoed into the quiet night. Y/N gasped, dropping her brush onto the floor of the balcony. Oberyn snickered when he heard her let out a few muffled curses. 

Y/N leaned over the balcony edge and called out, ‘Is anyone there?’

Oberyn licked his lips and decided to answer her. ‘Nobody, my sweet lady.’

‘Nobody?’ Y/N’s mouth pulled into a tiny smile as she recognised his voice. ‘Show yourself, please.’

Without a second thought, Oberyn walked out of the shadows and into the dim light that a few nearby torches and the light from Y/N’s own room provided. Her smile grew winder.

‘You are not nobody? Who are you, my good sir?’ She asked playfully.

Oberyn replied, ‘A pirate, Milady.’

‘A pirate! Under my balcony!’ She gasped in mocked shock, clutching at her chest. ‘What is your business here, pirate?’

‘To steal you, Milady.’ Oberyn clasped his hands behind his back. He liked the little game they had started playing and didn’t want it to end too soon. He suddenly got a wild little idea. He slowly moved closer to the wall where a sturdy looking vine climbed towards Y/N’s balcony. ’I heard you were to be married off to some old, ugly prince.’

‘Mister Pirate!’ Y/N exclaimed through a soft giggle as she watched him climb up the vine. ‘I shall ignore your mean comments about my betrothed if you promise not to break your neck falling off that vine. Oberyn, please, be careful!’

‘Ah! Oberyn, yes. The name of the old fool himself.’ Oberyn grabbed onto the balcony railing and pulled himself up, until he could swing a leg over the edge and jump onto the balcony floor. He brushed down his jacket and bowed. ‘So, Milady, I’ve come to steal you away.’

Y/N crossed her arms and lifted her chin. ‘I will not allow you to steal me for I am not marrying an old fool, but a kind and handsome man.’

Oberyn stalked closer to her with a cheeky grin. ‘Then may I steal something else from you, sweet lady? A night in your bed, perhaps?’

‘How bold you are, pirate!’

‘What then? I must steal something or I am no pirate at all.’

Y/N pondered over his request for a second with pursed lips. ‘You may only steal a kiss. And this will be the last kiss I give off to another. For tomorrow when I say my vows and until the rest of my days my lips will belong to only one.’

Oberyn’s heart warmed up at her words and he cradled her jaw in his hand. ‘Then I kiss is all I will take.’

Y/N’s eyes fell closed as she let herself be tenderly kissed by her betrothed. Oberyn let his emotions guide his actions like he’d done all his life and something about this moment made the kiss so much more meaningful. He felt his heart break and mend a thousand times over and he knew in an instant that he had fallen in love with her. And he felt like the luckiest man in the entire known and unknown world. 

‘Mmm,’ Y/N hummed into his mouth and pulled a few inches away to look at her betrothed. She wrapped her arms around his neck, beckoning Oberyn closer. In return, he sneaked his arms around her middle and twirled her around in the air once. Y/N laughed heartily. ‘So does that mean that Oberyn the Adventurer has also been a pirate?’

‘No, but I have met some.’ Oberyn told her, backing her against the nearest wall and kissing her once more. Y/N fisted the fabric of his lapels, letting out a quiet moan. ’If a real pirate was to climb to your balcony, I’d have cut him down before his foot even touched the floor.’

‘Defending my honour, I see.’

‘Always,’ Oberyn truthfully answered and looked down at his betrothed. She smiled and pulled him inside her room, asking him to sit with her for a little while. Oberyn took his boots off and climbed on the bed, resting his back against the headboard and pulled Y/N to lay down next to him; she rested one hand over his chest while her head rested against his shoulder. Oberyn took her hand in his and slowly rubbed his thumb over her knuckled. His other arm wrapped around Y/N’s shoulders and pulled her even closer to his side.

‘So how did my daughters behave?’

‘Atrociously. Horribly!’ Y/N replied sarcastically before bursting into a fit of giggles at the surprised look on Oberyn’s face. ‘They were absolutely wonderful, my dear prince. Tyenne and Nymeria seemed to like me already, Obara is warming up to me, but that’s alright. They love you very much and simply wanted to know that I wasn’t some evil sorceress who was trapping their dear father under my spell.’

‘I’ve already told you’ve bewitched me,’ Oberyn repeated his words from the night before. ‘It was not a figure of speech, it is the truth, my dove. And I’ve said that this is a spell I do not wish no one to break.’

Y/N sighed and wiggled her face deeper into the crook of Oberyn’s neck. He used the moment to kiss her forehead. She yawned and Oberyn smiled at the sweet sound.

‘You are tired, my love. I will leave you to rest,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t want you to fall asleep on me in front of the septon tomorrow.’

‘Please, stay a little longer,’ she murmured against his neck. ‘I don’t want you to go.’

‘I’m here,’ Oberyn responded just as faintly. He rubbed his hand over her shoulder to calm and warm her and before long he heard Y/N’s breaths even out as she’d fallen asleep in his embrace. He carefully unwrapped her arms from around himself and laid her down on the pillows, pulling the bed covers over her body. His hand reached towards her face and gently caressed her cheekbone. He bent down and kissed her forehead. ‘Good night, my love. Sleep well.’


	6. Chapter 6

The long awaited day arrived and Sunspear was in celebration from the very first morning light.

Up in the Old Palace, the mood was no different. Servants were hurrying up and down the halls and the kitchens were filled with plates upon plates with scrumptious looking cheeses and fruits, bite-sized delicacies from around Dorne and bigger portions of cooked game and fishes from the harbour. And the pièce-de-resistance in this magnificent cornucopia was the tiered cake which was generously doused in liquor to keep it from going bad before the end of the day.

Just a floor above, Y/N was being fitted into her wedding attire — a long, ivory dress which shimmered with its hand-drawn pattern of golden flowers. The top seemed to just float around her shoulders while the skirt fell straight down in a short train that was gathered at her feet. 

Jenne was making the final adjustments along with the court seamstresses who were checking if every part of the dress was impeccable, but it already was. They’d done their job marvellously and Y/N was without words at the sight that greeted her in the large mirror before her. Her hands were clasped in front of her as she fiddled with a small brooch. Her fingers traced the white glass glass and silver outlines and pin that made up the dove brooch. 

Y/N had decided against wearing her maiden’s cloak and also it wasn’t a common practice in Dorne. Neither was being led to the alter by a male family member, because in Dorne they believed that a woman should put her trust in her husband herself, not be thrusted into his arms by an uninterested paternal figure like they did in the North. Y/N certainly had no intentions of holding on to her Grym heritage. Her father and the memory of her mother were the only root in that place, but she carried them in her heart so it didn’t feel like a betrayal when she asked Jenne to throw away the maiden’s cloak since she wouldn’t be needing it.

All she wanted was her brooch; a symbol of a mother she never knew, and a father who loved her and his wife dearly until his last breath. So while Jenne and the seamstresses were fawning over her look, Y/N tried to pin the brooch to her dress, above her left breast. He fingers shook a little, but Jenne — being the wonderful friend that she is — swooped in to help. She plucked the little piece from between Y/N’s fingers and carefully pinned it down to the ivory fabric. Y/N smiled at her and thanked her quietly while Jenne showed the seamstresses out of the chamber.

But just when the door was closed, there was a knock and Y/N turned around, aiming a quizzical glance at Jenne. They weren’t waiting for anybody else. Who could it be?

All questions were answered when Arianne poked her head behind the door and grinned, ‘Are well-wishers allowed to see the bride before her big day?’

‘Arianne!’ Y/N exclaimed joyfully. ‘Please, come in. I’ve been dying to see you.’

‘Oh, don’t die just yet, you need to get to the altar first,’ the princess joked, but just as she was about to fully enter two little girls pushed past her and ran into the room. They screeched and jumped around Y/N.

‘Oh, hello there,’ Y/N greeted a bit confused, but smiling. The girls were absolutely adorable and a little loud but most children were like that at that age. ‘Who might you two be?’

‘My daughters. Who promised they would behave.’ A new voice. Feminine. Deep and sultry. A very beautiful voice which belonged to a very beautiful woman who walked just after Arianne. Her face was long and angular, but stunning nonetheless. She had dark eyes enwrapped with even darker kohl which gave her stare a hypnotising look. She wore a dark burgundy dress and many thin, golden necklaces, bracelets, and rings. Her long curly hair was pushed back by a little gilded tiara. Ellaria Sand was perhaps one of the most captivating women Y/N had ever seen in her entire life. It was understandable why Oberyn fell in love with her. She was divine!

Ellaria’s lips pulled in a benevolent smile. ‘These are Dorea and Loreza. My youngest.’

Y/N’s head shook into what she hoped was a nod and looked down at the now calmer little girls. Both grinned up at her. The one who Y/N assumed was Loreza was literally vibrating in one place, unable to contain her excitement at the new acquaintance. 

‘It’s delightful to meet you two,’ Y/N said to them. She looked up again at Ellaria and noticed two other girls standing beside her, both a little older than the littlest ones. 

‘And my eldest daughters: Elia and Obella,’ Ellaria spoke again, the two girls smiling at Y/N when they heard their names. They certainly had a warmer first reaction than Oberyn’s eldest daughters, but Y/N still couldn’t be sure just how much their presence was a good thing. She still was unsure of what to expect from Ellaria herself, Oberyn’s former paramour.

‘You look so beautiful, dove!’ Arianne said, walking up to Y/N and catching her hands in hers. ‘Dorea, Loreza, what do you think?’

‘You’re pretty!’ Loreza giggled, grabbing at the ivory skirts before her mother let out a low tut which immediately stopped the little girl. She put her hands behind her back and rocked on her little heels. ’I like your dress.’

‘I like it even more than her!’ Dorea interjected and the two sisters started arguing. Ellaria immediately stepped forward and gave them a calm, but stern look. 

‘Dorea, Loreza.’ She raised a perfect eyebrow at the two. ‘I remember you two promising me you’d behave.’

‘Sorry, Mama,’ the two girls apologised.

Arianne, sensing that Ellaria and Y/N needed to talk in private, ushered the two young girls in front of her. ‘Let’s go to the garden, shall we? Dove,’ she turned back to smile at Y/N, ‘I will see you at the sept.’

‘See you then,’ Y/N responded.

Arianne pushed the two little girls out of the room. Elia and Obella looked at their mother who responded with a curt nod, silently asking them to follow their cousin and sisters outside. Jenne was the last to leave the chambers, giving Y/N one supportive glance. 

Y/N observed the way Ellaria tilted her head to give her a very extensive once-over. She felt a little anxious at the way she looked compared to the slender woman who just seemed effortlessly beautiful. Y/N’s arms began to tingle when Ellaria placed her hands just below her shoulders. 

Y/N opened her mouth, ’Lady Ellaria, I—‘

‘I’m a bastard, dear one,’ Ellaria corrected, ‘not a lady. Please, call me Ellaria. I would like you to go out onto the balcony with me?’

‘Of course.’ Y/N agreed and lead the older woman outside. The sun was shining bright in the sky and the distant sound of bells ringing and birds chirping filled the air. The wind danced around the two women during their brief moment of silence. 

‘Your daughters are adorable,’ Y/N said, wringing her hands to find something mildly smart to say. ‘Very excitable.’

‘They can be. You will learn how to manage that when you have a few little Martells of your own,’ Ellaria spoke. ‘Does my presence here make you nervous?’

‘No, no,’ Y/N erratically shook her head, ‘I— I didn’t expect you to come to me. I am surprised, that is all!’

‘Hmm…’ Ellaria looked down at her. ‘And why is that?’

‘I thought you might… hate me for marrying the man you were with for so many years, had children with. A man you probably still love very much. A-and the last think I want to do is cause disruption in your relationship. I promise,’ Y/N rushed to explain herself.

Ellaria chuckled, ‘Calm yourself, sweet girl. No woman should be stressed on her wedding day.’ The older woman’s calm manner put Y/N at ease as she let Ellaria take her by the hands. ‘First, I don’t wish you any ill. Second, Oberyn and I have a long history together, that is true. But our love for each other is one of purely amicable emotions nowadays. Oberyn is a good father to our daughters and that is all. You are not causing any disruption whatsoever.’

‘Alright. So you don’t hate me for marrying him?’

‘Oh, dear one. I’m delighted!’ Ellaria seemed genuinely happy. ‘The girls and I were just seeing him off to the sept and I hadn’t seen him this… elated since Loreza was born. Even a blind man can see that he has found a woman who he marries for love. Not for somebody’s political gain.’

‘You think so?’

‘I’m certain of it.’ Ellaria cupped Y/N’s cheeks and smiled encouragingly. ‘Oberyn tends to wear his heart on his sleeve and it is plain as day that his heart now answers only to you.’ 

Y/N didn’t what to say to that. She couldn’t possibly thank the other woman, or disprove her words. But she knew that Ellaria was saying the absolute truth. Even though she’d been on the verge of sleep, Y/N still heard the words “my love” replace Oberyn’s usual nickname for her and it made her soar over mountains in her dreams.

‘I love him,’ Y/N admitted through a whisper. 

Ellaria’s smile grew even larger, ‘Of course, you do. Now… if this will make your heart a little easy, here is something from me,’ Ellaria leaned in a pressed a delicate kiss to Y/N’s forehead, ‘ _my blessing_. May you and Oberyn live long and be forever happy. And may your union be fruitful, my sweet girl.’

‘Thank you, Ellaria.’ Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She hastily brushed them away, exhaling all the anxiety out of her body. 

‘Now, let’s get you in your carriage. We shouldn’t keep your betrothed waiting.’

* * *

The sept was filled to the brim with people from Sunspear and all corners of Dorne. Many of the noble Dornish families were present, dressed in their opulent clothes and bearing their House’s colours. The air was buzzing with excited chatter but Oberyn was trying to tune it out. 

His hands were fidgety and for a second he even thought he might be nervous, but that was ridiculous. It simply wasn’t possible for him to be nervous. He’d faced hundreds of opponents, fought many battles. And yet, standing at the end of the aisle with the septon in front of him, giving him an encouraging smile, Oberyn felt like a boy, small and unprepared. 

Could he truly give Y/N all that she deserve? In his mind, she deserved the moon and the stars, and he was ready to tear them down from the heavens if that was what she wanted. 

Multiple gasps echoed through the vast sept which brought Oberyn out of his thoughts and he turned around only for the air to completely leave his chest. Guests craned their necks to see above the first two rows of people as Y/N slowly walked towards Oberyn. She climbed the three short steps and stood by his side.

If this is a dream, Oberyn thought, may I never wake from it. 

She was absolutely mesmerising in her wedding gown. Her eyes sparkled with glee and the sweetest of smiles adorned her face. She needed no crown, nor jewels. She simply glowed. The word “mesmerising” didn’t even do her justice. She was _ethereal_ ; a vision sent by the Gods themselves to show Oberyn what a piece of the seven heavens looked like. 

He took her hand and brought it to his lips to let them barely brush the gentle skin. A feather-light peck. He held her hand, looking into her big, joyful eyes as the septon began his sermon. The old man could say whatever he wanted, Oberyn just wanted to gaze upon his beloved.

Y/N wasn’t faring much differently. She was as completely entranced by Oberyn as he was with her. He was as handsome as ever, wrapped in a knee-long jacket with incrusted golden suns and a deep orange sash that crossed his broad chest, with his family’s sigil sitting over his heart. A royal sash, fitting for a prince. But the serenity and love in his eyes was what brought his features even more light.

The septon brought up their hands and wrapped a simple white ribbon around the clasped hands and wrists. ‘Your Highness, Milady, please repeat after me,’ he spoke quietly but the two already knew the vow they’d be saying to one another. 

‘Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger.’ The two began in unison.

‘I am hers.’

‘I am his.’

‘And she is mine.’

‘And he is mine.’

‘From this day, until the end of my days.’ 

Y/N beamed at Oberyn, her eyes glistening with a few happy tears as they finished their wedding vows. The septon announced them married and Oberyn felt such a relief wash over him when he could finally bent down and kiss his wife. 

His lips collided with hers in a slow and gentle kiss that lasted a few seconds but to the two newlyweds it was an eternity. A happy, beautiful eternity where no other sound was heard but the beating of their now joined hearts.

As they parted, the deafening noise of the people’s cheers engulfed them. The guests and hundreds of spectators to this joyous event welcomed the new couple with thunderous applause, and welcomed the new princess of Dorne.

* * *

The festivities were grand and full of excitement. Barrels of the finest Dornish red was being generously distributed amongst the many wedding guests. Music played and artists from all corners of the world came forward with their talents. Many bards flocked to the new couple with promises to write many songs and tales of this happiest of days. But to Oberyn and Y/N all that mattered is that they had each other close throughout the entire feast. 

They were sat at the main table, completely absorbed in their joy and each other’s company. Oberyn’s hand rarely left Y/N’s after the septon released the ribbon which bound them in matrimony. 

‘You are a vision,’ Oberyn whispered to her. 

‘So are you, my prince.’

Oberyn glanced down to the little dove pin, he’d noticed while they were still at the sept, and brushed his thumb over the delicate piece. 

Y/N glanced down and smiled. ‘It was a gift from my father,’ she explained. ‘It was my mother before me. The sigil of her house. I wanted them with me in some form today.’

Oberyn said nothing and he didn’t need to. He carefully moved his hand down to cover Y/N’s smaller one which was resting over his knee, and gave it a comforting squeeze. He leaned in and kissed his wife once more, wanting for the damned feast to be over with so he could whisk her away to their bridal chambers so he could peel her dress away and make love to her like he’d desperately wanted to for days now. 

‘May I bring my well wishes to the new couple?’ Doran approached them, pushed in his wheelchair by Ellaria who playfully winked at Oberyn. He grinned and stood up from his chair, Y/N following suit. 

‘Doran,’ Oberyn bowed his head to his older brother. ‘Y/N, my dove, may I — finally — introduce you to my brother, The Prince of Dorne. Doran Martell.’

‘Your Highness,’ Y/N curtsied and smiled at the greying man. ‘I believe you are the one I must thank for this.’ She motioned to her and Oberyn. 

‘I must say I did not expect my brother to take his marriage vows so easily,’ Doran joked. ‘I feared we would have to strap him to some contraption like my own.’

Oberyn scoffed, ‘How encouraging to hear you speak of me like that brother.’

‘I am merely stating past musings,’ Doran protested. ‘I see now that you two look very comfortable with one another. I pray that the Gods give you happiness.’

Oberyn glanced down at Y/N who was already smiling up at him. They were already happy.

‘Oberyn,’ Ellaria spoke, ‘Loreza asked if you wanted dance with her.’

‘Of course, I want to!’ Oberyn looked at Y/N again to check if it was alright to leave her for a short while. 

‘Go! Loreza is a force of nature, I wouldn’t want to upset her.’ 

Oberyn kissed her cheek and walked away with Ellaria at his side as the two conversed after many months apart.

‘Sit down, dear girl,’ Doran said to Y/N. ‘I do not wish to tire you before your husband gets to.’

She genuinely laughed at his comment and took her seat, pushing her chair back to fully face the older man. ‘I truly am grateful for what you did. And I hope you will allow me the honour of calling you my brother.’

‘It would give me great pleasure,’ Doran smiled. ‘But what is there for you to be so ardently grateful for?’

‘You saved me from a life of misery. I know it was not in your plans, but with this betrothal and this marriage…’ Y/N looked out into the dance floor where Oberyn pranced about with his youngest daughter. He had the brightest smile on his face as the little girl shrieked and giggled. ‘Marrying Oberyn. I cannot think of anything better in this world.’

Doran looked at his new sister-in-law is silent wonder. ‘All I hoped for is for my brother to settle down calmly. I see I’ve been blessed with seeing him married to someone who holds him in such great esteem.’

‘I’m happy to say it’s much more than that, dear brother’ Y/N beamed.

Doran couldn’t help but smile.

* * *

If Y/N’s heart was beating hard before and during the ceremony, it was certainly going to crack her chest open with its tremor as she waited for Oberyn to arrive.

The day was swiftly drawing to a close. The wine barrels hadn’t even dried out when the sun had started disappearing behind the Palace’s towers. Y/N had excused herself from her husband’s side, squeezing his hand in hers and quietly asking him to join her in a few minutes. Oberyn’s eyes seemed to instantly darken at her suggestion and he nodded his head without another word.

Y/N found Jenne near the outer rims of the celebration and asked for her help. The handmaid understood, quickly guiding her back to Oberyn’s chambers, a place that was now their wedding chambers. Jenne explained that the servants had taken care of preparing their bed, there were fruits and wine if they needed refreshments. Jenne promised that there was nothing for Y/N to be worried about and if at any point she wanted to return to her own chambers, they’d be waiting for her. With a shaky exhale and a small smile, Y/N pondered aloud that it was very unlikely that she’d want to go back to her chambers. Jenne laughed and hugged Y/N close, leaving her in front of the door to her wedding chambers. 

Y/N walked inside, making a beeline for the wine. She poured some of the dark red liquid into a goblet and took a sip. She kicked off her slippers, wanting to feel the cold touch of the marble floors on the aching soles of her feet. She was certain that the jittery feeling in her stomach wasn’t nervousness or worry, she was excited. She’d already been intimate with Oberyn and knew that he would be extremely good at what he was doing. Y/N wasn’t though; she wasn’t sure what she’d have to do. 

No, she thought, there was no point in dwelling on things that weren’t important. If she needed to know something, there wouldn’t be any harm in asking Oberyn. Just to ease herself into a state of relaxation and calm her racing heart, Y/N gulped down the rest of the wine in her goblet and popped a few strawberries into her mouth. 

Right then, the door clicked open. Y/N took a deep breath and turned around just in time to watch Oberyn walk into the room. He closed the door behind himself and pressed his back against it for a few seconds to just look at her.

‘Wife,’ he said.

‘Husband,’ Y/N replied.

Oberyn grinned from ear to ear and slowly walked up to Y/N, his eyes slowly drinking in the sight of her. Her hair was a little tousled from a day of dancing, her face was brightened by the celebration, and if Oberyn had to wait any longer to have her and love her, he was sure he’d beg for the Gods to take him.

His hands reached out like a man reaching towards a lifeline. Oberyn slid his hands from Y/N’s shoulders to her hands, bringing them to his lips. He then slowly and tenderly kissed each palm. Y/N pulled hands out of Oberyn’s gentle hold and brought them to his face, cupping his jaw, and pulled him down to place her lips over his in a much awaited kiss. 

Oberyn sighed into the kiss, his skin tingling where it connected to Y/N’s. Her touch was feather light. She pulled back, licking her lips and glancing up Oberyn through half-lidded eyes. 

‘I must be honest with you. I’ve… I’m not exactly… pure,’ she quietly admitted. ‘I once had an dalliance with a son of another lord from the Stormlands. It— It didn’t… well, I thought I should tell you now before you find yourself that I’m not—’ 

‘Does it bother you that I’ve lain with others?’ Asked Oberyn. Y/N shook her head. ‘Then why should I be bothered that you simply enjoyed what life had to offer.’

‘I didn’t.’ Y/N sneaked a glance at Oberyn’s mouth, wanting not just on hers but all over her body. ‘I didn’t enjoy it. It was good, yes. But that evening when you made me finish on your fingers… it was the first time someone had shown me real pleasure. The kind of pleasure I was only able to experience from my own hand in the past.’ 

Oberyn’s eyes fluttered, a groan spilling out of his mouth as he crashed it against Y/N in a heated kiss. He wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her even closer to himself. He wanted her body to meld with his like the hot wax of two candles that burned. Oberyn himself burned. His skin felt hot underneath all the layers of clothing and he wanted them off. He wanted Y/N’s clothes also off; he wanted to see her, all of her.

Oberyn pulled his face back and looked down. His fingers traced the dove pin once more and then he carefully removed it, placing it down onto the table next to them. Before he could touch the dress again, Y/N reached behind herself, untying the bows and strings that held her wedding gown together. As the fabric was released and the dress sagged a little, Oberyn raised his eyebrows at Y/N who only grabbed his hands and placed them on the hem of her neckline. 

With a slow downwards movement, Oberyn gripped the soft material and let it fall down like a waterfall of silk which pooled at Y/N’s feet. She was bare underneath. Oberyn let his eyes wander over the slopes of her collarbones down to her breasts that were instantly covered in gooseflesh as they were so abruptly separated from the warmth of the gown. Oberyn reached out again, dragging his fingers over her stomach to her bellybutton. 

Y/N’s breaths got quicker and louder as Oberyn’s hand came close to where he needed it most. Her attention was focused on his face and the expression it held as he explored her body by sight and almost impalpable touch. 

Y/N lifted her hand and caught Oberyn’s, letting it down at his side as she took a tiny step closer to him. She kept her eyes on Oberyn as she reached for the knot of his sash and untied it, removing it from his person. Y/N took notice of the lavender strands she’d gifted him those weeks ago, safely reattached to the lapel of his jacket. Y/N’s lips pulled in a faint smile as she continued on to unbuckle the belt around Oberyn’s waist which dropped to the ground with a dull thud as his sheathed dagger hit the marble tiles. She slid her hands underneath the lapels of his jacket and pushed it back and over his shoulders. 

Oberyn helped in pulling up his linen shirt over his head and dropped it so it too joined the little pile of clothes forming at their feet. He then took one boot off after the other, flinging them to the floor like he couldn’t care less about the damned things. Y/N nearly tore the strings of his trousers, but managed to undo them and then all she needed to push them down pass the curve of Oberyn’s ass and rest of the material fell around his ankles. The last piece — his chain — he took himself and put it down next to the dove brooch. He was now fully naked and letting Y/N take control of the situation however she wanted it. 

She was transfixed by the sheer beauty of his skin as she too took her time, feeling out her husband’s torso with featherlight touch. Oberyn’s chest, arms and shoulders bore scars that had healed over time but showed the history of the fighter in him. The Red Viper had faced so many foes in his life and he survived each time, carrying the signs of victory over death. And each of those scars meant that it was one battle won that had eventually brought him in Y/N’s life and she couldn’t be more thankful to the Gods for allowing this man’s fate to be intwined with hers. 

She leant down and kissed a long thin line that crossed above his right pec. Oberyn sighed above her as Y/N’s lips slowly climbed up his clavicles, then the column of his neck. Y/N’s nose brushed against the coarse hair on his chin as her lips finally reached Oberyn’s and connected. 

The kiss they shared was like one tried to breath in the other. Y/N’s hands glided over Oberyn’s shoulders and found rest in his hair while Oberyn’s embraced his wife around the waist. Oberyn walked her towards the bed and once the backs of her knees hit its edge, Oberyn gently pushed her into a sitting position. Y/N’s hands shot up towards his cock as it was growing harder and harder by the second, but he stopped her.

‘My dove,’ he calmly spoke, ‘I want to pleasure _you_. Tonight, is for you.’

So he kneeled before her, his hand sliding up her stomach to her chest, and made her lay down on top of the sheets. He spread her legs and left a trail of kisses up her left thigh until he reached her honeypot. His fingers wrapped gently around her left calf and brought her leg over his shoulder, allowing himself more access to pleasure the woman above him who’s breathing got excited by the proximity of his face to her most private spot.

Oberyn looked at his wife as he lowered his face, opening her lips with his fingers and dragging his tongue over her entrance and her clit. Y/N’s whole body convulsed as she nearly jumped off the bed. Her mouth opened, forming a silent “o” and her eyes closing at the blind pleasure that her husband’s tongue left her with.

‘O-Oberyn,’ she gasped as he licked the places he’d learned made her feel good and caused her to make the most glorious sounds. Hearing her breathe out his name, sent a blood into his cock which ached to be buried inside her. But Oberyn wasn’t finished having a taste of his wife’s sweetness. 

He wanted to make her come at least once before making love to her. He wanted her to experience the pleasure that good sex gave people, not the selfish act of an arrogant little lord who probably wasn’t even that well endowed. No, Oberyn was going to bring his darling wife to completion several times that night. He was going to love her with his mouth, his fingers, and his cock. He was going to draw those noises out of her mouth for the whole of Dorne to hear. 

‘Oberyn, that feels so good,’ Y/N whimpered, her hands buried in his hair. Her whole body shook as her orgasm approached like a tidal wave. A couple of more strokes and she’d be on that sweet edge. Oberyn continued licking her, sucking love bites onto her clit. That action alone forced a shriek of pleasure to come out of Y/N’s mouth and echo into the chamber. ‘Oberyn, please! Oh Gods! I’m— Oh, my prince!’

Her back arched off the silk sheets and her legs trembled as she reached that glorious peak and crashed down with a long drawn moan, her chest heaving as Oberyn separated his mouth from her swollen clit. He rested his arms on the soft bedding and looked at his wife’s scrunched up face. Her eyebrows were pushed up as she desperately tried to regain her breathing. The leg that had been thrown over Oberyn’s shoulder was limp against his back as the other was perched up on the bed. Y/N’s hands slowly eased out of her husband’s hair as her breathing regain it’s normal rhythm. She glanced down through her eyelashes, her eyes lust-blown and unfocused.

‘Come to me, husband,’ she begged, pushing herself up and back against the many pillows at the head of the bed. Oberyn followed without a question, crawling over her body as his face reached her and he kissed her. He allowed her tongue in and she explored his mouth, tasting herself on his lips. Y/N’s belly tingled with reignited passion at the sensation.

‘Tell me what you want,’ Oberyn whispered in between kisses, ‘and I will give it to you, my love.’

His hand came up to innocently play with the nipple of her left breast and Y/N sighed, cupping his face and bringing his lips to hers again. She wanted to drink him in like a Dornish wine. She wanted to breathe him in like the perfumed airs of Sunspear. Her husband. Her love. 

‘You were so sweet with your daughters today,’ she said. She looked into Oberyn’s eyes with honesty. ‘You’re a wonderful father and I— I want to give you children. Not only out of wifely duty, but because I want us to have little you’s and little me’s running around this Palace, with their sisters. I want to have that chance with you, my prince.’

Oberyn couldn’t pick one word that best described what he felt in that very moment. He was happy, he wanted to give her what she wished for. He wanted to grow his family with her.

‘My love.’ He kissed her another several times. His cock pressed against her inner thigh, leaking precum over her delicate skin. Oberyn was desperate to feel her around himself, desired to know the feeling. 

Y/N reached down and guided him to her entrance with a careful hand. With her touch resurfaced the memory of the night when she brought him to his proverbial knees with those fingers wrapped around him. The head of his cock pressed against her core and Oberyn pushed himself to the hilt with one single, slow move. Y/N gasped loudly and gripped his shoulders at the feeling of him stretching her open. He was much bigger than that boy she’d fallen in bed years ago and the sheer girth of him was more than what her fingers had prepared her for. 

Oberyn kissed Y/N’s cheek, pulling out slowly, almost completely pulling out. He tested out her reactions, he wanted to be sure he wasn’t causing her pain — the last thing he’d want to do. She was there for him to love and cherish, for him to show what passion looked and felt like.

‘You want me to give you a child, my love?’ He asked rhetorically. ‘Or several. You want me to fill you up with my seed and watch as you grow a little Martell inside your womb.’

Y/N moaned at his words and Oberyn pushed himself back in with the same agonisingly slow pace. 

‘Oh, how glorious you’d look,’ he continued. ‘Swelling with our child. Glowing like any mother does. You’re going to be my walking, glowing star, my love. Mother of my child.’

‘Y-yes, yes! Oberyn, ple-please,’ Y/N’s breathing picked up again, her legs automatically wrapping themselves around his waist.

‘What, my love?’ Oberyn asked, although he suspected what she’d want from him. He snapped his hips one, faster and with a little more force, and watched as Y/N’s eyes rolled to the back of her head. He mouth fell open and she groaned. She could swear she saw lights flash behind her closed eyes. ‘You like that?’

‘Mhm,’ she whimpered, clawing at his neck. ‘Please, Oberyn. M-move.’

He couldn’t possibly deny his wife’s wishes, after all he’d vowed to please her in any way she wanted. His lips found hers and the two locked in a long, passionate kiss as Oberyn began to move in and out, in and out. Harder and faster, but remaining gentle. He marvelled at the spectacular way he felt buried inside her. Her walls enveloped him so perfectly that he almost lost all sense or thought as he pushed deeper and deeper.

With one hand, holding him up, Oberyn used his other one to find Y/N’s clit and rub his forefinger into it. ‘Speak, dear wife. Tell me what you want me to do.’

‘Oh!’ She moaned into his mouth, her teeth pulling at her bottom lip as her head was pushed deep into the pillows bellow. Her eyes were shut as she drew closer, and closer, and closer to the brink. ‘Please, my love. I want your seed inside me. I want you to fill me up. Please, please, please!’

Oberyn felt her walls clench around him as Y/N coursed through her second orgasm with a wail that had Oberyn’s balls squeezing hard as he buried himself deep inside her core with one final, long thrust. Y/N pulled him incredibly close. Her naked skin flushed against his. Oberyn could hear his heartbeat in his ears. His breathing was laboured and he let his sweaty forehead fall onto Y/N’s shoulder while he stayed inside her. He wanted to feel her velveteen walls around his softening cock for a little longer. He kissed her neck and shoulder, he playfully bit the skin which earned him a quiet giggle from the woman beneath him. 

He looked down at her. She looked back, a smile pulling at her kiss-bruised lips.

‘I love you,’ she murmured.

Oberyn’s heart sang. 

‘I love you too, my little dove.’


	7. Chapter 7

The month after the wedding was as they called it “the honeymoon” and it proved to be just as sweet as it sounded. 

At Oberyn’s suggestion, the couple left Sunspear for the peace and quiet of the Water Gardens where they were going to be for the first few weeks of their marriage. The morning after the wedding they packed little luggage, took no servants, just two palace guards who would escort them to the residence. They bid everybody a goodbye, before mounting their horses and leaving the city behind. The rest of the Martell family was going to stay in the Old Palace for the time being to allow the happy newlyweds to enjoy each other in the beauty of the Gardens. They needed time away from everybody else as to not only learn each other’s habits, become even more comfortable with each other, but to also completely immerse themselves into their passions.

Oberyn’s only rule for the duration of their stay is that Y/N remain in the least amount of clothing. A rule which went both ways, after she in turn demanded that he refrain from wearing anything other that trousers that would be easy to tare off whenever she wanted him to take her. And they did just that. Thankfully, Jenne and Arianne (the thoughtful friend that they were) had snuck a pale white dressing gown amongst her other clothes, the material of which was so thin and transparent that it was almost as if Y/N didn’t wear anything at all. The first time she put it on, Oberyn had fucked her against the nearest surface (a wall), not being able to contain his excitement at having her wearing only that for the duration of their honeymoon. He on the other hand switched between loose trousers and the occasional shawl that he’d wrap around his hips. Every time he’d wear that, Y/N would giggle and feel her whole body grow hot at the tempting sight. It was safe to say that the two seemed to be enjoying each other’s company and slowly settling into married life.

Y/N had woken up early in the morning. Oberyn’s arm was protectively thrown over her body as he quietly snored behind her. Y/N smiled, slowly inching away from her husband’s hold. She rose from the bed and stretched her arms over her head, feeling her joints crack pleasantly. The opened balcony door let in the crisp, morning air and Y/N felt the desire to walk about the gardens. She’d planted the lavender bush she’d brought from Silverwood during the first day of their holiday; she could check up on it and see how it was faring in the new soil. 

She threw on one of Oberyn’s jackets which on her shorter frame fell down to her ankles, and buttoned the two bronze buttons at the midsection. The underside of the jacket was smooth and held the scent of the man himself. Y/N inhaled it, peaking over her shoulder to see the still sleeping Oberyn. He was laying flat on his stomach with his hands spread wide over the bedsheets. Y/N smiled once more and quietly left the room for the gardens. 

If she thought that the gardens at the Old Palace were captivating, then those in the Water Gardens were absolutely breathtaking. Water works and paths paved in smooth white stone took up the grounds that were not covered in dense greenery: there was no a strict order to the positions of each plant, it was as if they were left to their own devices. The Martells showed great care for nature and it manifested itself in this very garden. It was wild and beautiful. Just like Oberyn. 

Y/N walked by one of the many orange trees and plucked a few of the low-hanging fruits. She fondly recalled the first evening in the Water Gardens: 

_Oberyn made a joke about her short stature when she tried to jump as high as possible to grab an orange. Y/N gaped at his mockery and pushed him into a nearby grass patch. Before Oberyn could gather his wits (or even stop laughing), Y/N climbed on top of him, grinding her hips slowly on top of his. Oberyn’s mouth froze open, his lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. His hands came to slide up Y/N’s bare thighs and he pushed her dressing gown open, revealing more of the body he adored and which was now sinfully moving on top of his hardening cock._

_Y/N reached underneath herself and undid the little string at the top of Oberyn’s trousers and pulled him out from the confines of his clothing. His cock greatly enjoyed the attention and Oberyn let his head fall back in pleasure as Y/N slid onto it, sheathing him inside her velveteen walls._

_’What were you just saying, husband?’ She asked through a breathy moan, lifting herself on top of him and then sinking down. This new position was delightful; Oberyn was reaching a new spot inside her that brought waves of pleasure upon the two of them. ‘You were mocking me?’_

_’N-no, ngh— fuck! My dove,’ Oberyn’s hands on her hips gripped the soft flesh harder. He was not only turned on by the change of position, but by the change in Y/N’s demeanour. She was taking charge, she was bold. His wife looked like a fucking on top of him. ‘I would never.’_

_‘What am I then?’ She moved quicker, impaling her tight cunt on his cock over and over. Oberyn’s hands shook as he grabbed one of her bouncing tits in one while the other searched for her clit. He rubbed the little bud, drawing a high-pitched moan from his wife’s lips. Her eyes fluttered and Oberyn could swear he saw them slightly rolling to the back of her head. Her movements would falter from moment to moment, but a pinch of Oberyn’s fingers on her hardened nipple would push her to ride him._

_The pace quickened and Oberyn lifted his upper body off the ground, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist. He kissed her chest, her breasts and her greedily took the untouched nipple in his mouth sucking on it._

_‘Mhm, my beautiful wife,’ he groaned into the delicate flesh. ‘So perfect on top of me. You take me so well, my dove.’_

_Y/N sighed, head falling over his. Her hands came to rest in his hair and she pulled at the little curls at his nape. ’O-Oberyn! I’m—‘_

_‘Yes, my dove! You’re doing so well! Let go.’ Oberyn’s voice sounded strained as he gave the order. He felt Y/N’s walls clench around him and she collapsed on top of him in a writhing mess. Oberyn’s hold around her body tightened and he spilled himself inside her cunt. ‘My dove,’ he praised. ‘My wife.’_

_‘It is still hard to believe,’ Y/N sighed against his neck and lifted her head to look Oberyn in the eyes. She took his face in her hands and rubbed her thumbs into his bearded jaw. Oberyn took in her expression with interest and breathed deeply at her gentle touch. Y/N smiled brightly. ‘My husband. My Oberyn.’_

Y/N kneeled on the ground where she’d planted the lavender plant. Near the little patch of grass where her and Oberyn had succumbed to their passions those three and a half weeks ago. She checked the moisture of the soil, checked the blooms. Some of them had started to wither but it was no problem; they were soon going to form little pockets of seeds that would allow Y/N to replant the lavender in the Water Gardens and in the Old Palace. 

‘I was wondering what would make my wife leave my side this early in the morning.’ Oberyn’s voice came from behind and Y/N whipped her head around to see him walking up to her, dressed in a pair of trousers and a long shawl wrapped around his shoulders. He sat down on the ground and leaned on his side in the green patch, the blades of grass not yet completely dry from the morning dew and it began soaking into the fabric of Oberyn’s trousers, but he didn’t seem to mind that at all. ‘How is the lavender coming along.’

‘It’s withering,’ Y/N said and Oberyn frowned at that.

‘I am sorry, my love. I shall order an import of lavender bushes as soon as we’re back in Sunspear.’

Y/N chuckled, cupping his cheek. ‘No, my darling. It’s not a bad thing. The plant itself is at the end of its cycle,’ Y/N explained calmly. ‘All things have an end and we must accept that, but…’ she gasped in delight as she found a seed pocket on a lower strand that was hidden behind a bunch of bigger ones, ‘something new is always borne out of the ashes. See,’ she picked the seed pocket and place it in Oberyn’s open palm, ‘something new.’

Oberyn looked at his wife in fascination. ‘So this can grow more lavender bushes.’

‘Hopefully, yes. With good care. I’ll gather as many seeds as I can before we leave so I can plant them in the gardens at home.’

He grinned, ‘You call Sunspear your home and it brings so much warmth to my old heart, my dove.’

‘And I’m sure that your heart will be very insulted that you call it old,’ Y/N scolded, leaning in to kiss her husband. She placed her palm over Oberyn’s chest, sensing the steady beating of his heart. ‘I for one am truly fond of it, my prince. Your heart is what I fell in love with first.’

‘And not my devilish charm?’ Oberyn jested, giving Y/N’s pursed lips a quick peck. She rolled her eyes playfully and went back to checking the lavenders.

* * *

Once the news of Prince Oberyn and Princess Y/N’s return reached the ears of Sunspear, everybody was excited. When was the couple going to show in public? How was the new princess going to perform in front of her new countrymen, her people? The gossip resumed with even greater force than even before the wedding, the entire capital was waiting to see the couple, now surely even more happy after their long honeymoon. 

‘Oberyn?’ Y/N turned to Oberyn. She had an arm looped around her husband’s as the two walked down the street from the gates of the Old Palace towards the town below. She’d demanded that she wanted to see the famed bazaars of Sunspear and hopefully meet some of the city dwellers. Oberyn, as any obliging husband would do, had agreed immediately. ‘What do you think the people will think of me?’

‘They will love you as much as I do, my dove.’ Oberyn assured her. ‘Just by being your usual sweet self, you will melt the hearts of even the toughest Dornishmen.’ 

Y/N squeezed his arm, excited to see the city in full. Find where the aromatic fragrances of spices and temptingly sweet fruits were coming from. See what the little streets and corners of Sunspear looked like. 

As the two walked through the nearest market, they were quickly noticed by the many citizens who were going about their day: buying or selling. Excited voices rang above the crowd as Prince Oberyn and his new bride browsed around the many stalls. Children would skitter near the princess, look at her with large, happy eyes and then run away with excited giggles. She laughed at their antics, waving at a few bold little faces that would poke from behind their mothers’ skirts. 

Many of the vendors would step on the side of their stalls or carts to bow before their prince and princess and eagerly offer them a sample of whatever they were selling. A kind old man offered Y/N a necklace of polished nephrite beads. Another offered the two a taste of the many cheeses his farm outside of Sunspear produced: white blocks with red specks of cranberry fruits, some with chestnuts or walnuts, some even with hot peppers. A mother and her daughter who was no older than fifteen were selling beautiful silks in many different shades (Y/N particularly liked one roll of yellow fabric with tiny red-ish suns because it reminded her of many of the jackets Oberyn wore). 

Everybody who offered them anything from their stall would claim that it was a gift for the newlyweds, for a long and prosperous union, but Y/N would beg to differ. In the end she convinced most of the vendors that their hard work must be rewarded in some way; the one she couldn’t convince was the old man who gave her the nephrite necklace. He (jokingly, of course) swore on his heart that if she tried to hand him a single coin, he’d fall on his dagger and hope that the Gods take him for he could not see a more worthy recipient of his work. Y/N thanked him many thanks and promised that as soon as the lavender bushes at the Old Palace had grown enough to be used, he’d have a bottle of essential oil with her compliments. 

Oberyn looked on in pride as his bride manoeuvred around the stalls and conversed easily with the people. She was kind and patient, and the people adored her. Her presence at the bazaar brought warmth to everybody who came near her. On more than one occasion, Oberyn heard the people saying how her gentle demeanour resembled the late Princess Elia and Oberyn’s chest would tighten in sadness. But he couldn’t disagree. He’d tried not to think too often of it, but Y/N’s character reminded him so much of his beloved sister. It would be hard not to imagine that if fate had been kinder, the world would’ve had two angels of the Gods roaming the earth, spreading love and care to all people. 

‘Oberyn, darling, are you alright?’ Y/N asked, tenderly reaching for his hand. She put the bag that held their presents and purchases over her shoulder, and intertwined her fingers with her husband’s. 

‘Nothing to worry yourself with, my love.’

She tilted her head, catching the lie. She inched closer and mumbled, ’Is it about the people comparing me to your sister? Are you upset?’

‘No, no, my little dove.’ Oberyn pushed a strand of hair out of her face and caressed her cheek. ‘If anything they are correct to say so. I just grow sad at the thought of her, that is all.’

‘Will you tell me about her some day?’

‘I promise, I will.’

With an encouraging smile, Y/N squeezed Oberyn’s hand and led him to a nearby spice cart. The vendor immediately went into a tirade about what his spices were, how they were made and offered them slices of bread with olive oil and some deliciously smelling green seasoning. Y/N’s attention was torn away from the spice vendor and her slice of seasoned bread by a pair of loud and very rude male voices. She whipped her head to search for where they were coming from. She noticed a pair of bald headed men in dark, heavy clothes harassing an old woman who was standing on the side a small perfume stall.

‘Come now, ya old hag. I’m just asking you to lower the fucking price,’ One of them growled and Y/N quickly put their accents to be hailing from the Stormlands.

‘I told you, I’m only looking after my daughter’s cart.’ The woman nervously explained herself. ‘When she’s back, you can discuss the pricing with her.’

‘I don’t fucking care if—‘

‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ Y/N began with a strict tone. With a heat in her blood and a quick step, she’d found herself standing between the woman and the two men, ’but if I recall correctly respect for one’s elders is considered a law in the Stormlands.’

‘Ya from the Stormlands, missy?’ The second man asked dumbly.

Oberyn had noticed his wife leave his side and tensed up when he saw her face the two thugs. He kept his calm but was ready to pounce if needed. 

‘Y/N Martell, formerly of House Grym.’ Y/N introduced herself. ‘Now I ask you to stop harassing this good woman and be on your way.’

Y/N turned around quickly to check if the woman was alright and she was. Her full lips pulled in a grateful smile and Y/N rubbed her upper arms in a show of solidarity. 

‘Who do you think you are telling me what I can or can’t do? You better fuck right off, ya stupid Dornish whore. ’

Oberyn’s hand was ready at his dagger; he was used to the Northerners disrespecting him for where he came from, but to insult his wife was a whole different thing. His blood began to boil, but he stopped when he saw the steely look in Y/N’s eyes.

She looked the man who threw the insult up and down and replied, ‘It will be a sad day indeed when a _viper_ cowers before a cockroach.’ Oberyn felt his lips pull into a smirk at his wife’s words and he was even willing to step back and let her fight the men herself. She looked about ready to do so. ‘I will not ask twice, _leave_.’

The first man’s face turned red in anger and he put his hand at the hilt of his sword and that’s where he crossed the line. Oberyn took one last step towards the little group, pulling his dagger out and putting it against the man’s neck.

‘I was going to let you have this one, my dove.’ Oberyn spoke to Y/N but his eyes were trained furiously at the Northerner. ‘I believe my wife asked you to leave.’

‘Ya goat fucker, get that thing off of me,’ the man yelled and his friend was pulling out his sword when a group of Dornish guards descended upon them, aiming their spears at the second man who lifted his hands in surrender.

‘I suggest you apologise to this kind lady _and_ to Princess Y/N as well,’ Oberyn said through gritted teeth. 

The man’s jaw clenched as he muttered an apology and Oberyn lowered his dagger. The guards followed suit, lowering their spears. The tension created at that little spot The second man was off and nearly running down the street towards the harbour, while the other one gave the Martells one last dirty look before he too took off after his friend. 

‘Well done, my prince.’ Y/N clasped her hands behind her back and smiled triumphantly at her husband. ‘Right in the nick of time.’

‘I did not lie when I said I was ready to let you handle them yourself.’ Oberyn’s entire body relaxed at the sight of her smiling. ‘Perhaps I should start calling you my _viper_ now?’

Y/N giggled and spun around to check on the old woman. ‘Are you alright? I pray these idiots did you no harm.’

‘Thanks to you, Lady Martell, they didn’t.’ The woman’s dark eyes were filled with gratitude. She took Y/N by the hands and gave her entire frame a quick look. ‘I would expect no different behaviour from an expectant mother.’

Y/N’s breath hitched. ’I’m sorry?’

‘You, Lady Martell,’ the old woman explained. ‘I can see the Mother in you. I’ve been a midwife for many years, I should know.’

Y/N stared at Oberyn in disbelief, finding his expression entirely softened and pleasantly surprised. 

‘No wonder your viper is showing, my princess.’ The woman joked, Y/N felt her own chest releasing a tight chuckle. She couldn’t believe it. Well, she could, but this was so unexpected. 

‘It’s not as if we weren’t trying, my love,’ Oberyn said and Y/N playfully slapped him on the arm, giving him a stern look which almost disappeared behind her huge beam. 

‘And you’re sure?’ She turned to the woman again who gave her another once over. She put her hands on her stomach, nodding. Y/N felt her chest flutter in joy as she separated from the old woman to embrace her husband. Oberyn laughed in her ear and once the two pulled apart her kissed her forehead, grabbing the strap of her bag and flinging it over his shoulder. He explained himself by stating that a pregnant woman shouldn’t be carrying heavier load than the one she already was. The old midwife agreed.

‘Thank you so much,’ Y/N hugged her as well. ‘May I inquire after your name?’

The old woman put a hand over her heart and bowed her head. ‘Miryam, my princess.’


	8. Chapter 8

Nearly eight months had gone by from that moment in the market. In that time Y/N and Oberyn’s bond had grown stronger, especially with the nearing birth of their child.

Y/N had also completely settled into her role as a Princess of Dorne, having the help of her husband, family and the abundance of reading materials in the Old Palace library. Over the course of seven moons, she’d managed to devour one full bookcase of political and historical literature. She learned the customs and traditions of every city, town and hamlet in Dorne; she visited a few of them in the first few months before the maester and Miryam had advised her to reduce the frequency of her travels which was met with a bit of resistance on her part, but in the end it was Oberyn’s plea that she put the care of herself first prevailed. 

Y/N focused her attention of helping out the Palace gardeners as much as she possibly could without tiring herself, harvesting the Dornish oranges that the grew in the orchards, and closely following the development of the lavender bushes around the gardens. In her opinion, by the time her child was born she’d have good enough lavender plants to make essential oil and bathe her little one in scented waters. Then a few months into the pregnancy, Ellaria had come to the capital again to see how Y/N and Oberyn were doing and a couple of pieces of advice to the expectant mother, having gone through what she was going through four times already. Soon she announced she was going to travel around the seas for a little while with some Greyjoy lady. Y/N was nervous to be entrusted with the care of the children (Loreza was six after all), but Ellaria convinced her that the sooner she got used to a bunch of younglings running around her feet the better. 

The two women had grown very close over the months they knew each other, sending regular ravens to one another, sharing gossip about anything that was happening in Sunspear and in Hellholt. So to have Ellaria entrust the safety and wellbeing of her own flesh and bone was a huge thing for Y/N. It was a proof that she had the other woman’s trust which made her feel so very proud. So with four extra Sand Snakes to take care of, things at Sunspear were certainly not boring.

The older sisters helped, of course. They didn’t need to be coddled; although Y/N could swear that she saw Obara flush a little when her father praised her, or when Y/N herself complimented her on her skills. Nevertheless, the three older Sand sisters were extremely helpful in taking care of their younger siblings. Tyenne was a natural, she carried a sweetness of character that made her a very motherly type. She could also stab a person to death in less than ten seconds, but let’s not get too much off track. Obara and Nymeria, it seemed, had given themselves the job of being Y/N’s personal guard, especially when she was walking with the other girls around the bazaars in Sunspear. Y/N assured them that no person would think of harming her, but the two sisters insisted. Obara seemed to have truly warmed up to Y/N, starting conversation unprompted and being more friendly. 

One particular evening, Y/N was spending time with Oberyn’s daughters while he was held up at a counsel meeting after Doran returned to the Water Gardens. She had set up a little pillow nest in their chamber, lit up some candles, and read storybooks to the youngest Sand Snakes. Obara and Nymeria pretended that they were too old for bedtime stories but Y/N noticed their piqued interest at a particular part of the tale which described a valiant she-warrior who single handedly defeated a hundred foes.

As the story came to its end so did the sleep to the little pairs of eyes that had been so enthralled with Y/N’s narration. Dorea and Loreza had fallen asleep on top of one another, Obella had dosed off with her back against the frame at the foot of the bed, while Elia was desperately trying to keep her eyes open.

‘I’m not tired,’ she grumbled, her eyelids drooping heavily over her dark eyes. ‘I’m gonna wait for Father.’

‘My sweet, you will see him at breakfast.’ Y/N chuckled at the young girl’s pout and helped her up from the floor. ‘Come now, let’s get you to bed.’

Obara picked up both Dorea and Loreza without an issue and carried them towards their room across the corridor, and Nymeria carried Obella away. When the girls were safely tucked in and asleep in their beds, Nymeria and Tyenne bid Y/N goodnight and quietly departed to the comfort of their own beds. Y/N waddled back to hers and Oberyn’s chambers to tidy up with Obara quietly helping put the blankets and pillows away.

‘You and Ellaria are better mothers than the one I was born to,’ she blurted out. Y/N stood straight, resting her hands on her lower back. She was perplexed by the sudden revelation, to say the least. But was so happy to hear those words come out of Obara’s mouth. 

‘I am very happy to hear that, Obara.’ Y/N beamed at Oberyn’s eldest daughter. 

The girl gulped, ‘I— I don’t know if I can call you mother.’

‘That is the least of my worries. I am glad to know you feel comfortable around me and that is all I need.’

Obara smiled tightly, stepping towards Y/N. She appeared uncertain which was a rarity for the strong-willed young warrior. 

‘You make Father happy,’ she pondered aloud and Y/N’s grin widened.

‘Well, I certainly hope I am. I love him very much. And also you and all of your sisters.’ Obara’s face relaxed at hearing Y/N’s kind and truthful words. The two remained like that, silent, until Y/N opened her arms and Obara walked into her embrace without a second of deliberation. The hug was short and sweet — only partially awkward because of Y/N’s growing baby bump — but sweet nonetheless.

Just as they parted, Oberyn knocked at the door and walked in. He smiled at the two of them.

‘I was hoping to catch you all,’ he admitted walking up to them. ‘I’m sorry I was late. The meeting continued way too long for my liking.’

‘It’s all good, my darling,’ Y/N replied, ‘We put the little ones to bed and Obara helped put the room back in place.’

Oberyn smiled at his eldest daughter who smiled back with much more ease. 

‘I will leave you now,’ Obara excused herself, straightening her posture. ‘See you at breakfast.’

‘I’m happy to see you two bond so well,’ Oberyn said once the door shut behind Obara. He put a gentle hand over Y/N’s bump, sighing deeply. ‘How is our littlest viper?’

‘Moving around all day,’ Y/N chuckled, putting her hand over Oberyn’s. ‘If we’re lucky, we might— aha!’ Y/N moved Oberyn’s hand across the equator of her belly to the other side where she felt the pressure of a tiny foot. Oberyn beamed when he felt it underneath his palm. ‘There we go. Your little prince or princess, my love.’

Oberyn lowered himself onto one knee and pressed his mouth to Y/N’s clothed baby bump. ‘You stay in there, little one. Stay safe and sound, and promise not to bother your Mama too much. She needs her rest.’

‘I can rest better with you holding me, my prince.’ Y/N spoke quietly, stroking Oberyn’s cheek. He smiled up at her, rising to his feet to kiss her for the first time in hours. The peck was both gentle and desperate.

Oberyn groaned into her open mouth, ’Gods, I’ve missed you, my dove.’ His tongue slipped past her lips and tangled with hers. 

‘You saw me during lunch, Oberyn!’ Y/N giggled, feeling his coarse moustache rub against her top lip. She placed her soft palms on his face, bringing him as close as her bump allowed. She separated form him for just a moment to untie his belt and remove his jacket. In return, she took the lapels of her dressing gown and revealed the long white chemise which she bought at the market. It curved around her belly, showing it off to Oberyn’s hungry gaze. ‘Will you take me to bed, husband?’

‘Gods, I love you!’ Oberyn discarded the rest of his clothes, following a laughing Y/N onto the bed sheets. He made her cry out in pleasure with his tongue between her folds, then rolled the two of them over thus allowing his wife to take charge as she’d done so many times. Oberyn was not shying from admitting that it gave him great pleasure to see his wife, lower herself onto his cock and bring both herself and him pleasure. 

Y/N reached for the hem of her chemise to pull it over her head, but Oberyn grabbed her hands, placing them on his chest. ‘Leave it on, my love. I like how it looks on you.’

‘Yes?’ Y/N raised an eyebrow, lowering her hips which made Oberyn’s cock press against that stop inside her that he was ready to write a poem about. Oberyn’s head sank into the pillows as he stroked the delicate hands which rested upon his chest. ‘I’ve missed you too, my prince. So much, I had to find a quiet spot after lunch to touch myself to the thought of you after you left for your counsel meeting. I was so wet, my prince.’

‘Ngh— keep talking like that, little dove!’ Oberyn groaned, his hands descending to grab onto Y/N’s thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. He lifted it just a little to watch where the little jagged lines had started to form at the top of her thighs and on the underside of her belly. He loved to watch her body transfer, he loved to witness those changes occur. They made him love his wife even more. 

Y/N’s breaths quickened and Oberyn knew she was close so he whipped them around. Y/N fell onto the pillows with a quiet grunt as Oberyn didn’t even slip out and his action made his cock drive even further into her wet cunt. He grabbed onto the bed frame, keeping himself upright to try and not crush Y/N’s belly underneath his weight. And then he moved, quick and hard. He was rewarded by the breathy moans that rolled past his wife’s lips, and by the sight of her eyes rolling back in pleasure. 

Ever since Oberyn found just how more sensitive and needier his wife became with the development of her pregnancy, the more he wanted to make love to her and bring her to oblivion. And it became much easier now that he knew every little detail of her body and knew which place gave her pleasure, now tripled by the changes in her body. 

Oberyn rolled his hips once, twice. Y/N’s legs wrapped around his lower back, pushing him as further into her as godly possible. She grabbed onto the pillow underneath her head, wailing as the pressure in her core intensified and she was brought over the edge. Oberyn nearly whimpered at the sight, his arms shaking as he kept one hand on the bed frame and the other safely on Y/N’s thigh. He too soon reached his peak, burying himself deep inside his wife with a low grunt. He panted hard as he pulled out, carefully rolling over on his back. Y/N turned on her side and wrapped her body around his, her bump pressing into his flank. Oberyn threw an arm over his wife’s shoulders and placed a gentle kiss at the crown of her head. The tow remained silent for about a minute, trying to regain their breaths. 

‘Doran has sent a raven,’ he began after the quiet pause, ‘Mircella’s nameday is in three days and he wants all of us to join them at the Water Gardens.’

Y/N hummed through a half smile. ‘What wonderful memories we have there,’ she mumbled and looked up. ‘We must find a good present for the dear girl. I’ll go to the market tomorrow and look for something that will make her happy.’

‘I shall come with you, my love. I have no other engagements tomorrow and I wish to spend the day with you and the girls.’

‘If my prince so wishes,’ Y/N smiled and lifted her head just enough to kiss Oberyn. ‘Sleep now, my love. You must be exhausted.’

‘Goodnight, my dove.’ 

‘Goodnight.’

* * *

Riding in a carriage to the Water Gardens proved more tedious than riding on a horse. Y/N was longing for the day when she could be back on Svila’s back, galloping through the red deserts of Dorne with Oberyn. That was how their first ride to the Martell residence went, and a trip which was supposed to take nearly thirty minutes took them two hours. Y/N felt bad for the two guards who had to trod along on their own horses. But in her and Oberyn’s defines, he wanted to show her the coast line and that was a lengthy detour in itself.

This time the travel seemed tidier. The four youngest girls were in one carriage with Tyenne there to make sure they wouldn’t start a fight that would end in bruises and tears. Obara and Nymeria were riding along with the pair of guards that were at the front of their travel company. Oberyn had opted to ride alongside his wife in her carriage to make sure that she was alright since she wasn’t allowed to be on horse back until weeks after the birth, and she was a little grumpy about it at first. 

But as soon as they were reached halfway through the journey and the couple was comfortable in their large carriage, Y/N rewarded her husband’s “sacrifice” by throwing a cushion on the floor and kneeling in front of his spread feet. She partially undid the string on his trousers before pulling his cock out and taking it in her mouth. She moaned around the girth length; Y/N had only sucked Oberyn off a few times during their honeymoon, but as soon as they found out she was pregnant, Oberyn was more interested in pleasuring her and not so much himself. His defence was that she needed satisfaction more than he. 

So to prove him wrong and to thanking for joining her inside the carriage instead of riding ahead with his eldest daughters, Y/N bobbed her head up and down his cock, her spit sliding down his length. Her eyes watered at the sensation of having him in her mouth and she felt her cunt grow wetter with every stifled groan that came out of Oberyn’s mouth. Y/N smiled around him, reached into his trousers to fondle his balls. She had found that doing that made Oberyn’s mind go completely blank. And once her fingers rubbed over that particular spot he liked, Oberyn’s hands shot to grab at her hair as he came inside her mouth. 

While he was catching his breath, Y/N tucked him in back in his trousers and tied up the string that held them together. She slowly rose from the floor and sat back next to her husband with a proud little grin on her face. She loved to see the wrecked expression on his face whenever passions were involved and her little performance brought her just as much pleasure as it did him. 

Oberyn looked at her with a devilish glint in his eyes. He didn’t waste a moment before dove his hand underneath Y/N’s skirts, pushing two fingers inside her. Well, maybe travelling with a carriage wasn’t all bad…

* * *

Upon their arrival, Oberyn was off to his brother’s study to talk. Doran’s raven had mentioned that there was something he needed to discuss, something that couldn’t be simply put on paper. Those words were worrisome, but Oberyn knew not to judge a situation too quickly. Doran had a talent for making things seem more serious than they actually were. But as soon as he crossed through the threshold of his study, he knew that this time there was something serious. 

Doran’s forehead was scrunched up and marred by wrinkles that made him look even more aged. He was leaning on his elbow while looking through the ledgers on his desk and only looked up when Oberyn sat down on the chair opposite him.

‘Welcome, Oberyn.’ Doran tried to push a smile onto his face but it failed miserably. Oberyn didn’t bring it up, only nodded. ‘Hope your dear wife is well.’

‘You can come with me to see her after we finish here,’ Oberyn calmly suggested. ‘You called me in to discuss something of grave importance. Judging by your demeanour it is not something pleasant.’

‘Yes, well…’ Doran pulled out a piece of rolled up paper from his dressing gown’s pocket and handed it to Oberyn, ‘this arrived a day ago. From King’s Landing.’

Oberyn looked up at his brother with a stoic expression but his grip on the little paper tightened. Nothing good ever came out of King’s Landing; only sickness, war and despair. He opened up the letter and read on:

> _With the greatest joy King Joffrey of House Baratheon [then all of his many useless titles were listed] and The Queen Mother, Cersei of House Lannister would like to extend their invitation to House Martell for the occasion of our noble King’s marriage to Lady Margery of House Tyrell. The wedding will take place in three weeks time. The King and Queen Mother hope to see you in attendance._
> 
> _Signed,_
> 
> _Maester Pycelle_

Oberyn’s blood turned ice cold and he was moments away from tearing up the letter when Doran spoke up. ‘I see you’re not pleased—’

‘Not pleased?! This is our sister’s murderers that are inviting us to their silly celebration.’ Oberyn threw the paper onto the desk and slumped back in his chair. ‘I take it you’re going. Why am I here then?’

‘I’m not going,’ Doran replied. ‘My health does not allow it. I wish for you to take my place and represent Dorne at the royal wedding.’

Oberyn shook his head in disbelief. ‘You really want to break bread with those people. Is the gout affecting your memory as well, dear brother? Or do you not recall that our sister, our dear Elia was raped and murdered by the Mountain on Tywin Lannister’s orders most likely. And our niece and nephew were butchered.’

His angry rant was interrupted by a knock at the door and the two men looked over to see Y/N poking her head. She smiled sweetly. ‘I am sorry to intrude but—‘

‘Ah! Y/N, my dear. Come in,’ Doran greeted joyfully, but Oberyn couldn’t let a smile take hold of his features how his brother did. He was fuming and Y/N noticed immediately, walking up to her husband who stood up to let her take his seat. Y/N thanked him and took his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over the veins on his wrist to calm him down. ‘It’s good that you’re here because I’d like you to be a part of this.’

‘Doran,’ Oberyn warned. 

‘Y/N, the King and Queen Mother have invited out House to the wedding of King Joffrey to a Lady Tyrell. I cannot go and I wish for you and Oberyn to attend.’

Oberyn was never violent towards his family but in that moment he wished to strangle his brother, or break his wheelchair over his head. Y/N tugged on his hand, aimed a warm smile at him, and Oberyn felt a bit of his anger cool off. 

‘I am not taking my _pregnant_ wife to that hell hole!’ Oberyn did not wish to picture what happened the last time a good and pure soul entered the Capital. And the thought of endangering his love, putting her in the lion’s den, brought pain and fury in his heart. 

‘Oberyn,’ Y/N began carefully, ‘maybe it’s a good thing that the Lannisters are extending an invitation to House Martell. Maybe… they wish to renew their relations with Dorne and this is the most diplomatic way.’

‘Very well said,’ Doran praised and Oberyn gave him a murderous glare. 

‘I don’t want you to go anywhere near King’s Landing, my love. It’s a cursed piece of land that brings no good to kind people like you. And with you in your condition.

‘Look.’ Y/N carefully stood up and firmly took Oberyn’s hand in hers. ‘I am still at least a month away from giving birth. The baby and I will be well as long as you are too. And if you say that going to King’s Landing poses such a threat then I cannot in good conscience let you go on your own.’

Oberyn’s face softened. ‘Are you proposing you protect me, my love?’

‘The same vow you made, so did I. Believe me when I say that I will be much calmer going with you than staying behind, helplessly waiting for you to return.’

Oberyn was ready to agree with her; he too didn’t want to leave his wife’s side, especially with the birth of their child so near. The look in Y/N’s eyes brought him to heel. He knew how much she desired to travel, how much the lack of adventure dulled her spirits in the last few months. He knew she was excited to see King’s Landing even with Oberyn’s reluctance to go. But then the fear took over and he could see images of Elia and her sweet children that had haunted his dreams for years. He could picture the Mountain standing over their dead bodies with their blood on his hands and Oberyn’s vision turned red with a reignited vengeance. He had to make a decision. 

In the end, Oberyn turned his gaze to his brother who was waiting with seemingly bated breath. ‘We will go,’ he spoke quietly and felt Y/N squeeze his hand once more. He saw the excitement in her eyes as she placed a palm on his cheek. Oberyn leaned into the touch and let out a deep breath. He agreed to go to the royal wedding, but made another promise: he was going to find his sister’s killers and make them pay for what they did to her. If not only for her sake then for the sake of every good thing that the Capital inevitably corrupted and every good thing that the _Lannisters_ destroyed _._


	9. Chapter 9

It seemed such a feat to pack up and leave Sunspear behind even for a mere fortnight. Y/N felt the need to reorganise hers and Oberyn’s luggage several times. She’d look through the various outfits that Jenne and she picked for the wedding, and any other stately occasion at the Capital, but something would always look… not right. She had an odd gut feeling about the upcoming journey and she tried to ignore it; she was truly excited to travel. In her life she’d only seen Silverwood and it’s bordering fields and forests. Now she knew Dorne, her new home, but she desired to actually experience the stories Oberyn told her about or the tales in the books she read to his daughters at night. So gut feeling be damned, she was going to enjoy this adventure. 

‘Y/N,’ Jenne sighed in slight exasperation, ‘are you happy with the luggage now? We’ve gone over everything thrice.’

Y/N grabbed a bronze belt buckle and placed it in Oberyn’s trunk. ‘This will do. Yes, Jenne! I’m so sorry, I’m just—‘

‘I’m excited, too. I’ve never been to the Capital either.’

Y/N shook her head. ‘It’s not just excitement, it’s something else. But I could be wrong, my emotions have been all over the place lately.’ She rubbed a hand over her swollen belly. ‘I guess the little one is partially at fault for that.’

‘Too excited to meet their Mama and Papa,’ Jenne suggested and the two women giggled. 

Jenne had been an absolute godsend throughout the pregnancy; she’d remade half of Y/N wardrobe to fit her changing body and proudly showcase her belly to the world. A little Martell was sure to pop out of there and join their mad world. Jenne also was to be credited for making a baby’s blanket, her talent for stitch work coming in handy as the entire fabric was littered with tiny vipers and doves. Y/N snuck the blanket in her own trunk, just in case the little Martell decided to pop out while they were away from Dorne. She wanted them to be immediately greeted with the comfort of their homeland even if they were too far from it. 

‘Have you seen Oberyn?’ Y/N asked when they finally closed the trunks and called for two guards to carry them to the cart that would take all the luggage to the ships. 

‘I think he’s with the Sand Snakes in the gardens,’ Jenne responded and Y/N thanked her, telling her that she was going to go say her goodbyes to the girls. 

It was an understatement to say that Oberyn was a fatherly type. He was _incredible_ with his daughters and every man on this earth should take example of him in the way he interacted with his children. Y/N’s heart filled with joy when she saw him sitting on the edge of the large fountain near the front gate. Loreza was sitting on his knee, clutching at her dear Papa’s lapels with tears prickling in her large brown eyes. Dorea and Elia were on their father’s right, Dorea’s little feet swinging back and forth off the edge. Obella was on her father’s left while the three eldest Sand Snakes were gathered in front of Oberyn.

Obara immediately noticed Y/N arrive and approached her with a quick step. Her mouth was pressed in a tight line as she spoke, ‘I should come with you and Father to make sure you’re safe.’

‘Obara, dear,’ Y/N smiled at her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, ‘your father and I will be accompanied by the other Dornish houses and our own guards. We’ll be well protected I assure you.’

Y/N shot Oberyn a similar look of encouragement and his mouth slowly tilted up in a small smile. Loreza snuggled up in his chest as Oberyn wrapped his arms around Elia, Obella and Dorea, bringing them closer.

‘We’ll be back before you know it,’ he promised them. ‘Your mother will return in a week. You’ll be at the Water Gardens with her, your cousins and Mircella, and you’ll have such a great time.’

‘But I wanna — _hiccup_ — have great time — _hiccup_ — with you Papa,’ Loreza sobbed into her father’s jacket and Oberyn planted a kiss at the top of her head.

‘I know, my sweet, but you’re too young to travel,’ Oberyn explained patiently. ‘And the Capital is so boring. And smells bad too.’

Loreza stared at her father with a scrunched up nose. ‘Smells bad, _yuck_!’

Oberyn chuckled, ‘Yes, smells like a dirty toilet.’

‘Well,’ Loreza seemed persuaded and crossed her little arms over her chest, ‘but you’ll bring us presents right?’

‘All the presents we can find,’ Y/N promised, ‘And you won’t even realise how quickly the time has flown. I promise you, we’ll be back in no time.’

‘Okayyyy…’ Loreza jumped down from her father’s lap and walked over to Y/N, wrapping her little arms around her belly. Y/N awed and smoothed down the little girls hair. Just as quickly, the other girls left their father’s side and joined the hug, making Y/N laugh lightly. Obara was still carrying an expression of worry as she stood by them and watched Y/N who gave her another encouraging smile and a short nod.

Oberyn on the other hand felt his heart hammer in his chest at the endearing sight. He had been so preoccupied with his thoughts in the past few days; thinking about going back to King’s Landing after everything that had happened, thinking about facing the Lannisters, the Mountain. His heart was hardening up, but a gentle touch or a kiss from his wife, or a sight like the one that was happening before his very eyes was enough to pull him a little back towards the light. 

A guard approached the family and announced the ships were ready to depart. Y/N kissed all the little girls, then hugged Tyenne and Nymeria individually. Obara, quite surprisingly, initiated the farewell embrace between her and Y/N and whispered in her ear, ‘Please, be safe.’

‘We will be,’ Y/N squeezed her tight before letting go. Oberyn stepped towards her and offered her his arm to take. The two waved the group of girls goodbye before departing through the front gates, walking down to the harbour. 

* * *

They were once again, standing alone together by the ship’s railing. But Y/N happily thought how the situation was so much changed than the last time. 

Her hand was safely wrapped around Oberyn’s biceps. He was looking out into the sea with an unreadable expression on his face. Something had been bothering him for a some days, his demeanour was changed. Not too much but enough for a caring wife to notice. 

Y/N put a hand on his cheek, turning his face towards her. ‘What is going on that beautiful head of yours, my darling.’

‘Nothing to worry about, my dove,’ Oberyn simply said but it did not convince his wife.

‘It evidently worries you, therefore it worries me,’ she retorted. Oberyn shook his head but a smile slowly made its way back on his face. He pressed his forehead against Y/N’s and sighed deeply. The air was light with the smell of the sea and Y/N’s flowery perfume. ‘Please, Oberyn. I want to help you.’

‘I haven’t been to King’s Landing since…’ he pulled back, but took his wife’s hands in his. The delicate touch anchored him and brought peace to the storm in his heart. ‘The place does not bring many happy memories.’

Y/N brought their joined hands up and pressed them to her heart. ‘I am with you, my love. And we will make at least one good memory.’ 

One good memory was not going to avenge Elia’s death, an intrusive thought surfaced in Oberyn’s mind and he waved it away. Y/N was trying to lighten his spirits. She was unknowingly pushing him away from the ideas of vengeance and murder, but the burning desire to serve justice for his sister and her children was too overpowering. 

Oberyn pushed a hair out of Y/N’s face, trying not to think about anything else for the moment. He smiled down at her, pulling her face towards his to press a delicate kiss to her lips. ‘Do you remember the last time we were on this very boat?’

Y/N grinned. ‘Like it was last week. I was so enthralled by you, my prince. I could barely keep my wits together.’ 

‘Believe me, I could hardly contain myself when I was near you.’ Oberyn kissed her once more. ‘I was ready to take you against this very railing, then down in the corridor in front of your cabin. My beautiful wife.’ And another kiss, this time longer and more passionate. ‘I never want to see you wearing Northern attire ever again, it subdued your light.’

‘I must say,’ Y/N admitted through a quiet laugh, ‘I do prefer Dornish fashion. It is much more liberating.’ 

Oberyn hummed and placed one palm over his wife’s round belly. He felt the little shuffles their child made underneath Y/N’s skin and his heart burst with happiness. For a moment, there was nothing else on his mind. Only his love and their little one. 

‘Oof,’ Y/N huffed, feeling a dull kick, ‘I must admit that they are getting restless in there.’

‘Are you sure you are safe to travel,’ Oberyn asked worriedly, rubbing his hand over her belly. ‘I don’t want you to overwork or harm yourself.’

‘I’m good, darling,’ Y/N interrupted him. ‘Miryam and the maester checked me before we departed and everything seems to be in order. You’ll just have to endure my waddling for the rest of the trip.’

‘Your waddling is endearing, speak no ill of it.’

‘I am just wondering about what the people at the Capital would say,’ Y/N said. ‘I was raised with their conservative beliefs and I know how they view this,’ she pointed to her swollen belly, ‘a pregnant woman is to be hidden away. I just don’t want any ill wishes to befall the baby.’

Oberyn kept his hand on her belly while his other rested upon her cheek in a sign of comfort. ‘I will guard you from any mistreatment, be it words or hands. If anything, those pompous pricks at the Capital will be blinded by your glow, my love.’

‘My prince flatters me,’ Y/N chuckled.

‘Your prince speaks the truth,’ Oberyn responded and softly kissed her. 

* * *

The seas were relatively calm throughout their journey to King’s Landing. A raven had landed on their ship before sunset on the day of their departure, with a message from one of the several Dornish lords who were also attending the royal wedding. He informed that he was to set sail at dawn and arrive soon after the Prince and Princess, along with the other houses and knights. With that assurance and with the strong winds they were blessed with, the five ships that left Sunspear on Monday was set to arrive early in the morning on Thursday at the Capital.

On the last evening of their sail, Oberyn and Y/N were laying in each other’s embrace after a quick but sweet love making session in the comfort of their cabin. The bed was warmed up by their activities and the many pillows that Oberyn threw on the bed to make his wife more comfortable created a little nest of their own. The only sounds in the air were the waves crashing against the body of the ship and the quiet breaths of the couple. Y/N’s head was pressed against Oberyn’s bare chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. A rhythm she loved dearly. Oberyn had one arm throw over her shoulder, his touch spreading warmth across her shoulder, while his other hand held Y/N’s on his chest. His thumb absentmindedly traced shapes into the skin of her knuckles as the two relaxed into the night. 

‘The last time you were in the Capital was for your sister’s wedding, right?’ Y/N suddenly asked. She tentatively lifted her head from Oberyn’s chest to look at him, but he was staring at the ceiling. 

‘Her marriage to Rhaegar Targaryen — yes,’ Oberyn replied curtly, but didn’t drop his arms from her body. The memory evidently pained him and Y/N regretted speaking of it in the first place. 

‘I’m sorry, my love, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I see how much it pains you.’

Oberyn shook his head and looked at her, his eyes holding so many emotions that it was hard to discern one from the other. ‘Do not apologise, my dove. It pains me, but…’ Oberyn gulped down the heavy lump that had formed in his throat ‘How much do you know of Elia?’

‘Not much. People say that she was kind and beautiful.’ Y/N said and noticed the tiny smile that formed on Oberyn’s face.

‘She was,’ he agreed, ‘and she was more. Elia was so much better than me and Doran. Your nature truly does match hers. You two hold so much goodness in your hearts and your charm is only the outer manifestation of your inner beauty. But for Elia, kindness could not protect her against the evil in this world.’

It was Y/N’s turn to rub soothing shapes into her husband’s skin as he spoke of something so painful.

‘Rhaegar dishonoured her by leaving her for another,’ Oberyn continued with a somber tone. ‘And then came Robert’s rebellion and… I lost my dearest sister, my closest friend.’ Oberyn chose to end the tale there, feeling much too sad and angry to continue. ‘You must’ve been very young around that time.’

‘I remember the war,’ Y/N replied. ‘My father and uncle were defending the capital when King’s Landing was attacked. My father never returned.’ Y/N felt saddened at the memory of her uncle’s return with her dear Papa’s body wrapped in a shroud bearing his House colours of green and silver. But that was a long time ago; she’d learned to live with the loss and carried the fond memories of the time she had with her father. ‘I think we should end this talk for tonight. The past is a past for a reason and it does no good to dwell on it.’

Y/N tucked her head in the crook of Oberyn’s neck and closed her eyes. Sleep came quickly and soon enough she was softly snoring. But Oberyn laid awake for a long time, mulling over words. His mind tired and he was thrown in a restless sleep, his only hold to serenity being the woman in his arms.

* * *

The day was passing noon when Tyrion Lannister, former Hand of the King, walked into the gardens in search of Oberyn Martell. When he waited in front of one of the many city gates, he expected to see Prince Doran, having been told that the invitation was extended to him. He was mildly surprised to learn that the Prince had instead sent his brother Oberyn and his wife to act as representatives for House Martell. The rest of the Dornish guests paid him little mind as they rode into the city, leaving Tyrion and his ever present company, Bronn and Podrick, look for the Prince and Princess.

‘Shouldn’t a Dornish prince be warming some whore’s cunt in a brothel by now?’ Bronn crudely asked, annoyed that he had to walk around when he could be spending the afternoon in a tavern with a pint in one hand and some wench’s voluptuous sides in the other.

‘He’s sworn off them now that he’s married, apparently,’ Tyrion replied and pointedly ignored Bronn’s “poor fool” comment, while looking between rows of trees and bushes. Suddenly he caught a Dornish lilt coming from around nearby corner. As him and his party of two rounded the corner they were met with sight of the Prince of Dorne looking away from them towards a young woman in a long yellow dress who was fiddling with one of the flower bushes. The two of them seemed to be talking and laughing about something.

‘Prince Oberyn,’ Tyrion called and stepped quickly towards the pair, both of them glancing over in his direction. The woman stepped away from the bush, revealing the round pregnant belly that wighted her down. Tyrion stopped in front of the two and bowed his head. ‘Allow me welcome you to King’s Landing. The King hopes your travel hasn’t been too arduous.’

‘Does he now?’ Prince Oberyn asked sarcastically, earning a subtle jab in the ribs and a stern stare by the woman standing next to him. ‘Thank you, lord Tyrion. Allow me to introduce my wife, Princess Y/N of House Martell.’

‘Milady,’ Tyrion bowed towards the lady who carefully curtsied as to not fall over. But her husband seemed to be keeping a hand on her, making sure that she was not going to hurt herself. ‘We’ve heard very little of you in the Capital. May I relay my personal congratulations on your union and… wish you a safe birth.’

‘You’re very kind, Lord Tyrion.’ Lady Martell’s words were softly spoken and sincere, something unusual for the city. ‘I apologise we did not announce our arrival. The prince does not like formal welcomings and I wanted to see the royal gardens.’

‘My wife is an avid gardener,’ Oberyn added.

‘Are you happy with the gardens then, Milady?’ Tyrion asked, liking already that Lady Martell was easy to converse with. 

‘Your hydrangeas are in a really bad state, they could do with a proper trimming and a change of fertiliser,’ she briefly appraised the flower bush that she’d been fiddling with. She was honest, but also kept a nice smile on her face which made her critique seem purely an advisory one. ‘I could give your gardeners a few pointers.’ 

‘I shall rely your words to the palace gardeners,’ Tyrion nodded his head.

‘Come now, Lord Tyrion,’ Oberyn spoke up, ‘I know you didn’t come here to exchange niceties with me and my wife.’

Tyrion pursed his lips and nodded, ‘The King is very happy to welcome you to—‘

‘Speak the truth, Lord Tyrion, the King is insulted that my brother is not present. I am only a second son after all.’

‘As a second son myself I know something about being the family insult,’ Tyrion jested and Oberyn chuckled lightly at his words. ‘Why are you here, Prince Oberyn?’

‘We were invited to the royal wedding.’

‘I thought you said to speak the truth,’ Tyrion said curtly and Oberyn narrowed his eyes at him like a snake eyeing its opponent. Truly living up to his name, Tyrion thought.

Prince Oberyn turned his head to calmly look at his wife who seems unnerved by their tense interaction, but said nothing about it. ‘My dove, you should go and rest.’

‘My darling, you can just say that you wish to be left alone with His Lordship,’ Lady Martell shook her head, placing a palm in her husband’s cheek who brightened up for a second under his wife’s touch. ‘I’ll be off then. Be kind.’

‘My men will escort you safely to your room, Milady,’ Tyrion told her. ‘I hope to see you again soon.’

‘I hope so too, Lord Tyrion. Have a pleasant day.’

Once the two second sons were left the only two people standing in that little pathway, Oberyn spoke, ‘The last time I was in this… _place_ was for another wedding. My sister Elia and Rhaegar Targaryen, the Last Dragon.’

Tyrion tensed up, suddenly feeling the anger coming off of the Prince in waves.

‘Elia loved him, bore his children. She cared for them, fed them at her own breast. She wouldn’t let the wet nurse touch them,’ he smiled bitterly. ‘And her noble husband left her for another woman.’

The Prince paused, his eyes darkening dangerously as he continued on with the same low, angry tone, ‘The started the war which ended right here. Your father’s army took the city—‘

‘I believe it was more complex—‘

‘They _butchered_ those children — my niece and nephew,’ Oberyn whispered harshly. ‘They slaughtered them and wrapped them in Lannister cloaks. And my sister… I guess you know the rumours. But the one I keep hearing is that your father’s knight, The Mountain raped and murdered Elia, then he split her in half with his great sword. No man of your father’s does something without being told to do so. If the Mountain killed my sister then it was Tywin who gave the order.’

Tyrion looked at the prince with an uncomfortable feeling weighing on him. He knew there was nothing to say at that moment. He had to take the bitter words that Prince Oberyn threw in front of him and pray to any god that would listen that the prince doesn’t decide to spill his blood as the nearest Lannister available. 

‘Tell your father I’m here,’ Oberyn said, ‘and remind him that the Lannisters are not the only ones who pay their debts.’ 

‘Prince Oberyn,’ Tyrion cleared his throat, ’You must think of your wife.’

Oberyn’s eyes narrowed once more but this time he looked murderous. ‘Is that a threat, Lord Tyrion?’

‘It’s an advice,’ Tyrion responded truthfully. ‘She seems like a good person. And she is carrying a child. A very dangerous combination in this city. I do not wish to seem to be threatening her, but I ask you to think of her before you do anything rash.’

Oberyn paused for a second, completely still and quiet. ‘Tell your father,’ he repeated his warning, ‘and watch what you say about my wife.’


	10. Chapter 10

King’s Landing seemed less welcoming than Y/N had expected. Oberyn wasn’t exaggerating when he said that the city smelled like a dirty toilet, it smelled like _shit_. The two had spent little time in the actual city, the only instance being when they walked from the harbour to the Red Keep and the gardens, but that was a short trip and they barely encountered any people in those parts. But despair was rising like steam above the city and soaking into everything it touched. Y/N truly expected something more.

First thing in the morning after their arrival, the Prince and Princess of Dorne along with their fellow countrymen were introduced to the King and his betrothed. King Joffrey did however live up to his infamous temper and ugly conduct. Y/N wondered how so much hatred could exist in such a spindly body, but knew better than to voice her opinions. The King had already expressed his _displeasure_ at Oberyn’s arrival, stating that he would have such preferred his brother. Y/N squeezed her husband’s hand in hers partially in reassurance and also in an attempt to quell Oberyn’s evident anger. But Oberyn was a skilled diplomat so he smiled tightly and bowed his head. Then the King decided to aim his meanness at Y/N. He said that a “knocked up woman” had no place mingling in society when she should be in confinement. Not even Y/N could hold Oberyn back after such a clear insult. Even some of the Dornish lords and knight appeared ready to strike in defence of their Princess. But Lady Tyrell, or Margery as Y/N would learn, shushed her husband-to-be.

‘My love, it could be a blessing to have a woman with child at out wedding,’ she said sweetly, aiming her big blue eyes at the King to appease him. Joffrey seemed indignant to say the least, but nodded at his betrothed and waved his hand, giving the Dornish party their leave.

Margery proved to be a good friend and Y/N felt glad that she wouldn’t feel completely outcasted in her time at the Red Keep. The two spent most of their day in a particular nook in the gardens where Margery’s grandmother, Lady Olenna kept to surrounded by her little “flock of foolish hens” as she referred to her ladies-in-waiting. Y/N instantly liked the woman, she was confident and outspoken. It was obvious that she hadn’t lost her womanly fire with age — on the contrary, it seemed to be burning even stronger. Lady Olenna reasoned that it was purely out of spite, seeing how much she detested being perceived as a meek old lady. 

Another addition to Y/N’s friends was Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell who was the most quiet member of their circle. She was the wife of Lord Tyrion, a fact that the young girl rarely spoke of. In fact, she rarely engaged in any sort of conversation and simply listened. For a girl her age, she looked like she’d lived through it all and apparently she had, having lost both her mother and eldest brother in the most violent way few days prior to the Martell’s arrival to the Capital. Y/N was especially patient and sweet to her, knowing that what the young lady needed most at that time was support.

‘Now, my dear,’ Lady Olenna pulled Y/N away from her thoughts, ‘tell us. How is it to be married to the famed Red Viper?’

Y/N glanced over her shoulder. Oberyn was sat at a little stone table with a parchments, booklets and vials of ink, writing letters to his daughters to assure them of their safe arrival to the Capital. He had decided to keep close to his wife if at any point she needed his aid, but gave her enough distance so she didn’t feel suffocated. Y/N smiled as she observed him in his concentrated state, thinking how calm he appeared surrounded by quietude. 

‘I’d say… splendid,’ Y/N replied to Lady Olenna. ‘He’s a kind and loving husband. Most importantly, we’re each others friend and confidant. I wish you, Margery, the same.’

Margery shook her head with a smile as Lady Olenna scoffed. ‘As if that idiot boy King would ever be kind or loving.’

‘Grandma, don’t say that’ Margery giggled. ‘Thank you, Y/N. We shall have to see what the King makes of himself after the wedding. Perhaps, he can be taught some affection.’

Lady Olenna muttered something unintelligible under her breath as she sipped wine from her goblet. She scrunched her nose at the sour drink, putting the goblet down. ‘Ah, nothing they serve in godforsaken city is edible. Even their wine tastes like shit.’

Y/N hummed, sipping the raspberry leaf tea Miryam had given her in trunk-loads. ‘You must try the Dornish red then. I must say, no other wine quite amounts to its rich taste. Oberyn demanded we bring our own barrels, because he loathes the wine they serve in the North.’

‘This isn’t the North,’ Sansa mumbled.

Y/N smiled gently at her, ‘To a Dornishman, everything north of the Sea of Dorne is the North.’

Sansa nodded, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know.’

‘It’s quite alright, my dear. Perhaps… I can convince your Lord Tyrion to bring you to Dorne. The Dornish will be absolutely mesmerised by your beautiful red hair.’

‘I don’t think the King will let me leave,’ Sansa smiled sadly. 

‘How fortunate then that the King will be too preoccupied after the wedding,’ Margery said with a knowing look and Y/N laughed heartily at her implication. 

* * *

The days went by in chatter with the Tyrell ladies and Sansa and walking around the gardens with Oberyn. He seemed changed; not drastically but enough for his wife to notice. He was serious and more quiet, even when speaking or making love to her. It was worrisome, the city had some dark pull on Oberyn and was slowly draining him. The reason was not unknown to her. This was the first time Oberyn visited King’s Landing since his sister’s own wedding and the memories must’ve overwhelmed him. Y/N promised herself that as soon as the wedding was over, she was going to get her husband and leave that horrible place. They were going to return to Dorne where, hopefully, Oberyn’s spirits would go back to what they usually were.

The day of the royal wedding arrived and the feeling it brought in the air was so much different than how it was in Sunspear nearly nine months ago. It was a stiff feeling that couldn’t be put into too much words, but left a bad taste in one’s mouth. Like drinking a Silverwood wine. Y/N considered that it must’ve been the city itself. The indifference of the Lannisters towards their subjects and the displeasure the people felt in return. Nothing like happy, sunny Sunspear where a Martell could walk through the market place and the people would project their happiness in forms of kind greetings or little tokens of appreciation. Y/N missed her people, she missed Dorne. She wanted to go back, but in the present situation duty was more important.

* * *

Y/N dressed in the official Dornish regalia that Jenne and the Old Palace seamstresses had made for her: a long dress, shimmering like gold, that billowed around her body, delicately accentuating her round belly. Little red suns, pierced by spears were hand-stitched into the fabric. Jenne then pulled out several pieces of jewellery from Y/N’s old wooden box to finish her look. Thin gild bracelets and several chains that sat snuggly in the V-shaped neckline of her dress.

Oberyn was walking into the room and their gazes met in the surface of the mirror that Y/N was standing before. She smiled at him sweetly and bit her lip, admiring his own attire. An ivory jacket with embroidered suns and twirling shapes. His facial hair was neatly trimmed and slightly glistening with those sweet scented oils that made it soft to the touch. He looked just as handsome as ever even if his eyes didn’t glimmer as much as they used to. 

The ceremony was brief which was good for Y/N because she couldn’t stand on her feet for too long. Her back was aching more and her belly was drooping. She had one hand on its underside at all times while her other was safely around Oberyn’s upper arm. The two shared a fond look by the time the King and Margery exchanged their vows, recalling their own wedding day. For a brief moment Oberyn appeared at peace as he subtly brought his wife’s hand to his lips to kiss it. Y/N let her fingers graze the hairs on his chin and rested her palm on his cheek. Perhaps, her pre-natal anxiety was getting the best of her, Oberyn was fine. If there was anything on his mind he would surely tell her. 

The wedding feast was as grand and gaudy, to the Lannisters’ taste. The head table held the royal family and the closest relatives of both Joffrey and Margery. Y/N thought she looked magnificent in her silver dress and intricately styled hair. She was like a pale rose, glittering with crystals of dew in the morning sun. Margery caught her eye and beamed, the two waved at each other from across the large patio. 

Her and Oberyn were walking towards the buffet table, towards the berries that they both liked. Y/N was feeling a little peckish, but not as much as she used to be in the past months. As they neared the long table, they met the Queen Mother herself and her elderly, but dignified father, lord Tywin Lannister.

‘Lord Tywin, your grace,’ Oberyn addressed the two as he picked up a fruit from the nearest bowl, ‘I don’t believe you’ve met my wife. This is the Lord Hand, Tywin Lannister and Cersei Lannister, the Queen Regent,’ Oberyn told Y/N. She politely smiled at the two. ‘I suppose it is former Queen Regent now that the King has his Queen.’

This comment seemed to irk Cersei but she smiled nonetheless. He smile was tight and forced, but Y/N didn’t mention anything about it. Last thing she wanted was to insult the King’s own mother. 

‘Lord Hand, Lady Cersei,’ Oberyn continued, ‘Princess Y/N Martell.’

Y/N gripped Oberyn’s upper arm as she curtsied to the two Lannisters as carefully as she could. ‘Milord, Milady.’

‘My, how big you are,’ Cersei said in a saccharine tone. Y/N’s stomach churned at the slight, but chose to ignore it. She instinctively placed a hand on the lower part of her belly. ’My son did mention that the Prince of Dorne’s wife was… obviously expecting.’

‘In Dorne, we don’t hide our pregnant women. They’ve been blessed by the Gods and deserve to share that glow with the world.’

‘How tolerant!’ Cersei commented.

‘Perhaps it is good, Lady Cersei,’ Oberyn replied, ‘that you’re giving up your regal responsibilities. Wearing that crown for so long must’ve left your neck a little bit crooked.’

‘A trifle that you must be so grateful to never have to experience, Prince Oberyn.’ Cersei’s voice was laced with dislike and Y/N felt a little uncomfortable. ‘What a pity your brother couldn’t come here.’ 

If only Oberyn could just excuse himself and return to their table. Y/N’s heels were starting to ache and she thought that she might need to use a chamber pot soon. A real shame it was that King’s Landing didn’t have toilets and a sewage system like Dorne; Y/N had grown very accustomed to that particular perk of her homeland. 

‘Please, give him my regards,’ Lord Tywin spoke up. ‘Hopefully the gout will abate in time and he’ll be able to walk again.’

‘They call it the “rich man’s disease”,’ Oberyn told the older man, ‘I’m surprised you don’t have it.’

‘Gentlemen in my part of the country don’t enjoy the same… _lifestyle_ as our counterparts in Dorne.’

‘Truly,’ Oberyn replied, ‘in some places having an expectant mother out in society is frowned upon, and in other the rape and murder of women and children is considered distasteful.’ 

Y/N looked at Oberyn, gripping his arm harder. She knew he was talking about Elia and her children. However, she didn’t know about… what his veiled accusation included. Was this how Elia and her children met their end? Oberyn didn’t share that part of the story. The two Lannisters visibly frowned at his words, but Oberyn remained calm. Y/N really wanted to go now. 

‘How fortunate you are, former Queen Regent, that your daughter Mircella has been sent to the latter sort of place.’

* * *

Y/N felt uneasy for the rest of the feast. She was having that queasy sort of filling in her stomach and she protectively placed a hand on top of her belly. Just sit tight in there, little one, she said in her head. She needed to remain calm, for the sake of her child. 

Nothing about what transpired next could be described as calm. 

The King had used any chance he had to insult and degrade his uncle. Y/N felt truly saddened by the way Lord Tyrion was being treated. She’d met him again a few times in the gardens and at previous feasts. He was kind and intelligent, and he made sure his wife was always taken care of. He was gentle with poor Sansa. He was a good man and he did not deserve the Joffrey’s demeaning treatment.

Then the pigeon pie was brought forward towards the newlyweds and Joffrey cut it open with his sword, releasing the pigeons that were stuck inside. A pure white one fell out of the open pie, in a little pool of blood and Y/N’s heart squeezed in sadness for the unfortunate creatures. 

Afterwards Lord Tyrion was made to bring Joffrey his wine and the King drank from the golden goblet. And then he started coughing; the King was gasping for air until everybody realised that he was in fact choking. A deadly cold chill ran down Y/N’s spine as Oberyn turned her face towards his and told her not to look. Oberyn pulled her face into the crook of his neck, shielding her from the morbid sight. 

The sounds alone were the stuff of nightmares as Cersei screeched for her son and Joffrey choked. Y/N’s hand over her belly trembled as she listened to what was happening around her. People were gasping, talking hurriedly, some were even crying. Soldiers were rushing past their table, their armour clanking. Oberyn’s hand came to rest on Y/N’s back as he whispered words of reassurance in her ear. And then suddenly there was silence.

Y/N lifted her head, but Oberyn still kept her close. She watched as Cersei held son’s limp body to her bosom, crying. The King was dead. And then all seven hells seemed to break loose. 

King’s Landing became even more of a place of despair after the death of King Joffrey and the imprisonment of his uncle who was presumed murderer. Sansa was gone and nowhere to be found which seemed to solidify Lord Tyrion’s guilt in the people’s eyes.

The week after the wedding was moving at a tortoise’s pace and suffocated Y/N, she wanted to be gone from that place. She wanted to go home. But it was all foiled when Tywin Lannister came on the second day after his grandson’s death to demand that Oberyn be one of the three judges on Tyrion’s trial so they were set to stay in the Capital longer.

Y/N closed up in herself. She was scared and kept to the gardens for longer periods of time. Miryam warned her that stress would be bad for her baby. It could speed up labour and there were at least two more weeks until it was her little one’s time to join the world. Y/N needed to stay calm; as soon as the trial was over her and Oberyn were going home. 

The trial was a farce. Everybody seemed set upon finding Tyrion guilty. People who evidently despised him for reasons unknown were put on the stand as witnesses of his transgression. Tyrion was set up to lose his life. Then his lover was brought forward, Sansa’s former maid. She testified that Tyrion had promised his wife to kill Joffrey in revenge for her dead father, mother and brother. And then — in his moment of grief and anger — he demanded the worst, a trial by combat. 

Y/N looked over to where Oberyn was sat and he seemed to perk up at Tyrion’s words. His face was stoic with only a bright glimmer in his eyes. But it was nothing alike the shine his eyes had before. It was nothing like the shine his eyes had when he looked upon his daughters, or Y/N herself. The glimmer was deadly. Y/N made up her mind; the two of them were leaving immediately.

* * *

She called Jenne to her and Oberyn’s chamber and started to pack. It was nothing meticulous; she was throwing garments in their trunks, not caring which was going in Oberyn’s and which was going in hers. Her hands were shaking violently and her heart was beating against her ribcage. The baby seemed to sense their mother’s anxiety and started moving about even more. Their little legs were pushing against her stomach, her throat burning with something acidic. She drank her tea and continued packing up.

Jenne followed her without a word. She tried to calm her friend down, but it was of no use. Y/N was locked in a little whirl of fear and as soon as the trunks were packed, they could depart and get as far away from that wretched place as possible. 

Y/N rushed around the room, she was listing task to complete. Announce their departure to their guards, ready the ships to set sail as soon as possible. She was not only listing them for Jenne, she was doing it to keep her mind occupied. 

A sharp kick at her lower ribcage brought her out of her frenzy and she winced. She held a hand to her belly and rubbed it over the spot where she felt the baby kick. 

‘It’s alright, my little viper,’ she soothed the baby and herself. ‘We’re getting out of here. We just need to wait for Papa to return.’

Speaking of the man himself, Oberyn walked through the open doors to their chamber with a quizzical look on his face. He noticed the packed up trunks and all other belongings they had brought with themselves organised in the middle of the room. Next thing he noticed was that Y/N seemed to be in a state of worry and he swiftly stepped towards her.

‘My love, what is going on? Are you okay?’ He asked worriedly.

He cupped her face and brought her forehead to his lips, placing a tender kiss to her skin. Y/N sighed and nodded, ‘I’m alright. Jenne and I packed. We’re leaving King’s Landing tonight. I’ll send a raven to the girls to expect us in a few days. Loreza will surely be delighted.’

‘Y/N—‘

‘And— and Ellaria must be home already. It’ll be good to go back to our family and be away form this place.’ She continued despite Oberyn calling her name once. ‘You were absolutely right, my darling. We never should’ve come here. This place is horrible and I’ll hear all your I-told-you-so’s in the ship as soon as we’re out on the waters.’

‘Y/N, I’m not leaving King’s Landing,’ Oberyn said a little louder and Y/N froze in her place. She took a small step back and watched as her husband’s face remained unchanged. 

‘Jenne, will you please go and check on the guards,’ Y/N told her handmaid without breaking eye contact with her husband. The younger girl tentatively left the room, shutting the door behind herself. ‘What do you mean you’re not leaving King’s Landing. You were the one who was against us coming here in the first place. Now we have all the reasons to leave.’

‘I have reasons to stay.’

‘Like what?’

‘The trial.’

‘The trial is over, Oberyn.’

‘The trial by combat,’ he said and Y/N’s felt her blood freeze in her veins. ‘I spoke to Tyrion. I am to be his champion.’

Y/N’s breathing quickened and she took another step back, trying to calm her racing heart. The baby kicked her one more time and she placed her hand over her belly to comfort them.

‘Why?’ Was all she asked.

‘The crown has chosen the Mountain as their champion. I will fight him and kill him.’

‘The Mountain— Oberyn, why are you doing this?’ Y/N’s eyes started filling with tears and her vision became blurry as she tried to stare down her husband. She needed to reason with him and stop this folly.

‘He killed Elia,’ Oberyn replied. ‘He murdered her children, then he raped her with their blood still on his hands and killed her.’

‘So it is vengeance you seek?’ Y/N exhaled deeply. ‘Vengeance won’t bring her back, Oberyn.’

Oberyn scoffed. He was not acting like himself. Why was he so cold? ‘I don’t expect you to understand.’

‘The Mountain murdered my father! He cut him in so many pieces, they never allowed me to see his body after he was brought back to Silverwood.’ Y/N hissed, tears now streaming freely over her cheeks. ‘Do you truly believe that I haven’t thought of vengeance. That I haven’t thought of that— that monster dying in agony. Killing the Mountain won’t bring my father, nor Elia and her children back. 

Y/N’s breathing hitched in her chest as she furiously wiped at the tears on her face. She took in a shaky inhale and continued with a levelled tone. ‘I told you that the past is a past for a reason. And you won’t find me there, nor our child. And they are coming soon, in mere weeks, Oberyn!’

‘I am doing this for their sake as well,’ Oberyn replied. ‘And for you, my love. The world needs to know that nobody can hurt a Martell and get away with it.’

Y/N silently looked at Oberyn. ‘It’s like you don’t even hear me. You’re not doing this for us, you’re doing it for your own selfish reasons.’

‘I am not!’

‘Then tell me,’ Y/N cried out, ‘is your vengeance really more important than your love for me? More important than our child.’

‘Of course, it isn’t, my sweet dove,’ Oberyn stepped closer to her and cupped her face in his hands once more. ‘But I need to do this.’

Y/N’s face crumbled and her heart ached. With his words he proved what his true answer to her question was. She closed her eyes, willing them to stop swimming in tears because it was becoming harder for her to see anything in front of her. She looked at the ground and stepped away from Oberyn, her back facing towards him. She released one last shaky breath before steeling herself and turning to face him. 

‘I am taking one of the ships and a few of the guards that came with us.’ She spoke monotonously. Inside her heart was breaking. ‘I must think of my child’s safety and right now this… place is nothing but dangerous for them.’

Oberyn’s eyes lost the angry glimmer and now only showed a ghost of sadness. He opened his mouth to speak but Y/M cut him off, ‘If— If you decide that your family… that I still matter to you, come back to Dorne.’

‘Dove—‘ Oberyn reached out with his hand to touch her, but she angrily slapped it away. 

Jenne walked in with a couple of guards. Y/N picked up her little travel bag, and looked at the three people who entered. ‘His Highness will be staying in King’s Landing. You can bring my trunks to the ship and we shall leave as soon as possible. I ask a few of our guardsmen to be left with him for the duration of his prolonged stay.’

‘Yes, Milady,’ the two guards spoke in unison. They silently picked up Y/N’s luggage and carried it out of the room. Jenne looked at her with worry etched deep on her face. Y/N walked past Oberyn without giving him a second look and aimed for the door.

‘I love you,’ Oberyn said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and small.

Y/N turned around, glaring at him. If you truly loved me, you never would’ve done this. She wanted to say, no, _spit_ that in his face, but her throat was closed up. She knew that if she spoke up, she’d lose her grip and fall. And she knew that she could never something like that to the love of her life. But she was so, so angry. So she lifted her chin just a little and without saying anything back to Oberyn, she waddled out of the room under the heaviness of her belly. 

Jenne helped her down the path that led to the harbour where the Dornish ships were docked and then onto the ship that was going to take them home. Y/N’s face remained hard and emotionless as she boarded the vessel. Jenne said nothing more as she led her down to her and Oberyn’s cabin. Only once they reached the quiet room and the door was close did Y/N burst into tears, sinking to the floor. Jenne immediately came to her side to hold her close. Y/N’s sobs echoed in the quiet cabin. Her heart was shattering in the confines of her chest. 

The ship slowly rocked away form the port at King’s Landing, leaving Oberyn behind.


	11. Chapter 11

The ship seemed to sway along the waves for what felt like centuries. Y/N didn’t leave her cabin for one moment, instead staying curled up in her bed surrounded by the multitudes of cushions and pillows that Oberyn had put there at the start of their journey to make her comfortable. And quite heartbreakingly his scent was soaked into the soft fabric of all of them. The mind consuming smell of him that used to calm her but was now keeping her awake and only her own exhaustion allowed her dreamless bouts of sleep every few hours. 

The baby hadn’t moved much either during their voyage. Fear would begin to creep over Y/N every moment when she couldn’t feel the little kicks, but then her little viper would move their legs. She would feel reassured that her child was still with her and would sometimes think that their lack of movement was due to them also being sad that their father’s voice and his warm touch weren’t near. And whenever that thought came back Y/N would cry again.

Jenne stayed in her cabin. She slept on the bed, holding Y/N’s hand when she needed her to and bringing her some food and water every now and then. But Y/N’s appetite had begun to dissipate as they moved further and further away from the shores of King’s Landing. 

‘Y/N, you must eat some more,’ Jenne pleaded, as she pushed the little bowl of mixed fruits towards the other woman. Y/N forced herself to pick a single fruit and pop it into her mouth. Her jaw was tight and chewing felt like a feat in itself, let alone swallowing down the little nourishment she was accepting. Her nose and throat were blocked up by the constant crying and she couldn’t accept much food without feeling like she’d choke. 

‘Thank you, Jenne,’ Y/N whispered, smiling faintly at her handmaid. Jenne smiled back with eyes full of pity as she pushed back the hair form Y/N’s face. She left the fruit bowl on the bedside table and sat back against the headboard. Y/N moved just a little to place her head in Jenne’s lap, her eyes filling up with tears once more. Jenne said nothing and continued to stroke her hair back as Y/N fell into a fitful sleep. 

* * *

The ship was minutes away from docking at the harbour at Sunspear. The sun was poking from behind fluffy white clouds, the light streaming inside the royal cabin changing in intensity. Jenne helped Y/N into some fresh clothes, promising to draw her a nice long bath as soon as they were at the Palace. Y/N felt a kick in her belly which brought her attention down. She put her hands on her lower abdomen, supporting her belly as Jenne slowly led her out of the cabin and up towards the top deck. 

Jenne had sent a raven while they were sailing away from the Capital, explaining what had happened and that Oberyn had stayed behind. The raven had apparently reached Arianne as she and Obara were the only people to welcome the arriving ship. Y/N saw them from afar and felt guilt. They were surely going to hate her for leaving Oberyn behind in King’s Landing. She was starting to despise herself for doing that. Obara looked as stoic as ever, while Arianne’s beautiful face was contorted in worry. Her hands were clasped in front of her as she waited for the ship to stop at the dock. 

Jenne grabbed Y/N’s elbow with one hand while Y/N’s fingers clutched at her one. The two slowly descended to the dock via the plank that one of the sailors put down. Arianne rushed towards Y/N, enveloping her in a tight hug. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Y/N burst into tears. Her legs were barely holding her up and she feared she was going to collapse onto poor Arianne. But the Martell heiress was much stronger than that and she showed resilience as she kept the pregnant woman upright. ‘I shouldn’t have— oh, you must loathe me for running away.’

‘Y/N, listen to me,’ Arianne spoke in a calm and firm voice, ‘ _nobody_ despises you. You thought of your child’s safety. That’s what matters right now. Obara, help me lift her up.’

Obara came towards the two and gently held Y/N’s upper arm, hoisting it over her shoulder. The two women patiently led her to a carriage that was stopped just at the end of the short stone dock while Arianne continued to whisper words of reassurance in her ear. 

* * *

Y/N was immediately brought to her chambers and laid to rest. She was exhausted, her face was red and puffy and she looked nothing like her usual self. She complained of a back ache as Arianne helped lower her onto the bed sheet.

‘Jenne, can you ask the maester for some chamomile or milk of the poppy even,’ Arianne implored Jenne who immediately jumped to action, flying out of the room and heading towards the maester’s quarters. 

Arianne sat by Y/N’s side holding her hand. ‘How are you, my dear.’

Y/N hiccuped, blinking away the remaining droplets of sorrow that lingered in her eyes. ‘I shouldn’t have— I should’ve stayed with Oberyn. I left him’

‘Y/N, please, you must calm down.’ Arianne pleaded. Her heart was tearing at the sight of this gentle and good woman whom she’d grown to adore in the almost one year of knowing her, crumble like crushed dead leaf. ‘Jenne will bring something from the maester to relax you, but I must demand that you rest. Alright?’

‘A-Alright.’

‘Good.’ Arianne placed one hand onto Y/N’s belly. ‘How is the little one?’

‘Still shuffling about,’ Y/N replied, a little calmer. ‘They seem alright.’

Jenne came back with a little vial of a pale yellow liquid and a water goblet. ‘Maester said that a few drops of the chamomile oil into some fresh water will help her sleep.’

‘Let me,’ Arianne said taking the vial and goblet from Jenne’s hands and following the instruction; few drops into the water. She watched as they dissolved leaving a pale shimmer behind that swirled in the liquid. Obara then helped push Y/N’s head up as Arianne helped her take a few sips from the goblet.

The draught seemed to work its magic pretty quickly because Y/N’s eyelids started drooping. Obara gently lowered her head back onto the pillows and Jenne lifted the blanket to cover her. Y/N mumbled something to the three women but before she could open her mouth again to try and articulate whatever she was trying to say, she fell into a deep slumber.

Y/N slept throughout the rest of the day and the night that came. She rarely moved, sometimes muttered something in her sleep, but nothing that would be worrisome. Obara stayed to guard her, letting Jenne take a few days to rest herself after all that had transpired after hastily leaving the Capital. Y/N’s silent guard stayed awake through the entire night, making sure that she was safe. 

Dreams always came with deep sleep. It was always recommended to have a good night’s rest, especially after arduous events. Maesters and healers alike claimed that sleep was the best remedy. But with the mind never slept.

And so her dreams were plagued by a pair of sad brown eyes, plump lips that seemed to form a cry, but nothing came out. The voice wasn’t nothing but a dull hum and no matter how hard Y/N tried she couldn’t hear it. _Your fault. Your fault._ She was standing in front of her husband and he was calling for her. Oberyn looked completely wrecked, his hair was tousled and his clothes were wrinkled. He was begging, his eyes were filling with tears. The sight was absolutely agonising; this strong man who had defeated numerous enemies was crumbling in front of her, Y/N’s heart breaking for him all over again. _Your fault. Your fault._ His hands were vigorously waving for Y/N to come to him, but she was stuck. She couldn’t will her legs to take her to her husband. The love of her life, whom she abandoned. She tried calling him back, trying to get him to come to her but it was to no avail as his form started fading away. Your. Fault. 

‘No, come back,’ she whimpered, ‘Oberyn.’

Y/N’s eyes flew open and she blinked fast as the strong sunlight nearly blinded her. The windows were open and curtains were drawn. Through one of the arches walked through Ellaria in a dark blue dress, her hair much shorter than before, and arms folded over her chest. She rushed towards the bed, settling down onto the mattress and smoothing down Y/N’s hair.

‘It’s alright,’ she cooed, ‘it was just a dream. Calm down, my sweet.’

‘Ellaria,’ Y/N whimpered. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I came as soon as I heard you were back,’ she explained calmly, but her eyes were filled with worry. ‘Come, it’s nearly midday. We can take a walk in the gardens, stretch your legs.’

Ellaria gently held one of Y/N’s hands as her other arm was securely wrapped around her shoulders. They were walking slowly, taking a few steps then stopping for a second or two because Y/N kept complaining that the baby was pushing against her spine. For the most part Ellaria went on about the girls, and how much fun they’d had with Y/N, and how excited they were to come to Sunspear again. But the younger woman couldn’t contain the guilt that poured over her like a cold bath. The girls wanted their father, not her.

‘I am so sorry, Ellaria,’ Y/N mumbled. She waited for the tears to come but it was as if her eyes were as dry as a Dornish desert. ‘You must be so— so upset with me. I am so terribly sorry.’

‘My dear friend, whatever could you be sorry for?’ Ellaria stopped and lifted Y/N’s face to hers with two gentle fingers underneath her chin. Her brows were pulled together. 

‘I left him there. In King’s Landing.’ Y/N sobbed quietly. ‘You _must_ despise me. I would not blame you. I should’ve— I should’ve dragged him out of there. And now he will fight the M-Mountain and oh Gods!’ Y/N winced at a sharp kick in her belly. She smoothed her hand over the bump, shushing the baby inside. ‘What if he loses his life and I’m the one to blame. I couldn’t get him to change his mind. He wanted to fight, for Elia and her children.’

Ellaria walked the two of them to a nearby bench and eased Y/N onto the firm surface. ‘Listen to me, sweet girl. _Nothing_ you did would make me or anyone in this family despise you. You thought of your child first and that is what matters. Oberyn is a hard-headed fool and we both know that he can be as stubborn as a donkey. But what matters is that you’re safe and you’re home. And the little one will be safe as long as you are.’ Ellaria spoke calmly, brushing Y/N’s hair out of her face. She leaned in and kissed her forehead. ‘Oberyn will realise his mistake and come back. And I will make sure that I beat his royal arse as soon as his foot steps on Dornish soil.’

‘But what— what if he fights the Mountain and loses,’ Y/N whimpered. ‘I can’t— I couldn’t… if he d-dies, I will die. I love him s-so much. Oh, why did I leave him there?’

‘Y/N, please.’ Ellaria resolved to begging when Y/N broke into another fit of tearless cries. ‘You must calm down. Please, dear friend.’ She rose from the bench, pulling Y/N alongside with her. ‘Let’s walk some more. You need t clear your head.’

Y/N took one step and stopped abruptly. She felt the oddest sensation; liquid trickling down between her legs and soaking into the front of her dress, slowly forming a little wet spot. She looked down and noticed the minuscule pool that had started to form in the space between her feet. She gasped.

Ellaria didn’t even stop to think, she had had four daughters and knew what was happening. ‘Y/N, my sweet, your waters have broken. Stay calm. We must get you to your room and call the maester.’

‘No. Miryam,’ Y/N whispered, still in a state of shock, ‘My midwife. I need to—‘

‘I understand. Obara will go find her.’ Ellaria nodded, slowly but steadily leading Y/N back into the castle and towards her chambers. ‘Your first bouts of pains should start soon. I will stay with you, do not worry.’

* * *

Miryam had arrived quickly enough and with some milk of the poppy from the maester who decided to step away to allow the more experienced midwife deliver the baby, Y/N’s labour began. Ellaria wasn’t at all worried at first; she left Obara in the room to hold the expectant’s hand while she went to send a raven to Doran in the Water Gardens. He had requested that he be informed when the child was born and that time was surely coming nearer by the second. 

Arianne hurried down the corridor towards her aunt and uncle’s room, in a flurry of peach silk skirts, her maid Alla trailing behind her. She inched to get closer to the door despite Ellaria telling her to leave the midwife to it, but then the first pained screams ripped from inside the room and the three women flinched. Ellaria’s heart sank for the young woman who was not only going through the pain of childbirth, but had to endure the pain of a broken heart. 

She held Arianne back when she tried to get inside the room. ‘The last thing she needs is people crowding over her. Jenne and Obara are inside, if they need us—‘

Another scream, this one followed by a litany of quieter cries and muffled words of despair from Y/N and ones of encouragement from the midwife. 

‘If they need us, we will be here.’ Ellaria continued with a stony expression. ‘But we cannot for a second—‘

‘Where is she?’

All three women turned around to find a dishevelled Oberyn who was panting as if he’d ran for miles. In reality he’d only ran from the harbour but that was still something. His eyes scanned the three women and he moved towards the door but what followed he did not expect. 

Arianne reached beneath the hem of her skirt and pulled out a small dagger, pushed him back against the stone wall of the corridor and pressed the dagger against Oberyn’s neck. He stared at his niece in disbelief and tried to say something, but Arianne tightened her grip on the handle, threatening to push the blade further into his skin. Oberyn lifted his hands in defence and remained calm under Arianne’s murderous glare.

‘How. Fucking. Dare you!’ She seethed through gritted teeth. ‘You _fucking_ imbecile!’

‘I know you’re mad, you have every right to be so—‘

‘Oberyn, you chose revenge over your pregnant wife.’ Ellaria angrily interrupted him. ‘You are so lucky I still bare some fondness for you and care for Y/N’s well-being, otherwise I’d let Arianne cut your throat open.’

‘I know, I know,’ Oberyn repeated. ‘And I am sorry.’

‘Sorry is not gonna fix the situation, will it!’ Arianne hissed. ‘She is in pain because of your selfishness. Why even come back? Shouldn’t you be enacting your revenge on the Mountain? Getting yourself fucking killed?’

‘Tyrion got smuggled out of the city,’ Oberyn explained patiently. ‘I got on my ship hours after Y/N left. I am here now and I am sorry.’

Y/N’s tortured yelp came from inside the room, drawing Oberyn’s attention. His eyes filled with worry and all the composure in his countenance dropped. ‘I beg you, _please_ , let me get to my wife.’

Arianne’s lips pulled tight, but she released her grip on Oberyn’s shoulders and removed the blade from his throat. She took a step back and nodded her head towards the door. Before he could touch the door knob however, Ellaria grabbed his upper arm and stared him dead in the eyes. She looked into them, searching for any thread of a lie or dishonesty but found nothing. Oberyn was back and he was silently begging her to let him into the room.

Once inside, Oberyn was met with the sight of Y/N laying on their bed, her face covered in beads of sweat and water. Her legs were bent at the knees and the bedding between them was stained with blood. Obara’s back was facing him as she was kneeling on the floor on one side of the bed, gripping Y/N’s hand. Jenne was dampening a cloth in a bowl of clear water and pressing it to Y/N’s face. Her hair was sticking to her forehead as she pushed her head back into the pillows, letting out a whimper that tore at Oberyn’s heartstrings. Without a second to lose he got to the bed in three large steps, putting a hand on Obara’s shoulder. His eldest looked at him in disbelief and stood up.

‘O-Oberyn?’ The movement had distracted Y/N for a second, allowing her a brief moment of serenity as her eyes focused on her husband. Her Oberyn. She gasped as new tears began to pour over her cheeks and her lips pulled in a lopsided smile. ‘Y-you’re here!’

Obara walked past her father, allowing him to take her spot by the bed, and she silently left the room. Oberyn took Y/N’s hand in his, pressing a desperate kiss to her knuckles. 

‘I’m here, my love.’ He said quietly. 

Y/N breathed in deeply. ‘I am so sorry, Oberyn, my darling. Please, forgive me.’

‘Why would I have to forgive you?’ Oberyn asked in astonishment. ‘I should be the one begging your forgiveness. You were right, I was selfish.’

‘I shouldn’t have left you in that place,’ Y/N whimpered as another torturous contraction seized her. She gritted her teeth, breathing hard through her nose. Miryam was kneeling on the sheets between her open legs, quietly guiding her in the correct manner of breathing. ‘I should have stayed by your side, l-like a good wi-wife.’

‘My sweet dove,’ Oberyn near whimpered, kissing his wife’s forehead, ‘you are the best of wives. I broke the vow I took the day we married and it will take me a lifetime to repent for the pain I’ve caused you. I am so very sorry. You are the love of my life, my dove. You and this child are more important than the vengeance I sought. And I am sorry it took you leaving me to understand that. Forgive me, my dove!’

‘You’re here now,’ Y/N repeated with a watery smile. ‘Please, hold me. I am scared.’

‘Of course, my love. Everything will be alright.’ Oberyn sat up on the bed with his back against the headboard as he drew Y/N in, her own back flush against his chest. Her head fell in the crook of his neck and she shamelessly inhaled his sweet scent. He really was there! Her darling husband. Y/N sobbed as the pains got stronger and stronger, she felt like her whole lower body was being torn open.

‘Your Highness,’ Miryam spoke a little louder, ‘I need you to hold fo a few seconds and then push. Alright?’

‘Yes,’ Y/N whimpered, gripping onto Oberyn’s hand. She breathed deep through her nose and out through her mouth. She repeated that breathing another two times, feeling the baby’s head move closer and closer to her entrance. Y/N closed her eyes shut, grinding her teeth and trying to suppress the shriek that was threatening to slip out of her mouth. The pain was blinding, but the feel of Oberyn’s strong chest on her back and his hand holding hers brought her some comfort. 

‘You are doing so well my love,’ he praised. ‘Just a little more and your baby will be in your arms. You will hear their cry and it will be the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard in your life. I promise you that.’

‘Mhm?’ Y/N sobbed, her eyes lifting up to see Oberyn looking down at her with all the love and devotion that his soul contained written all over his eyes. His beautiful brown eyes. ‘I love you so much.’

Oberyn breathed out a soft laugh, his eyes filling with tears of joy. ‘I love you too, my darling. My warrior.’ He peppered her forehead in kisses, accentuating each and every word. ‘My moon and stars. Love of my life.’

‘Your Highness, you need to push,’ Miryam instructed and Y/N braced herself onto Oberyn who continued to speak words of love and worship in her ear. An odd sensation came over Y/N as she felt the baby’s head pushing out of her. She gasped in pain. ‘Your Highness, you’re doing well. You need to hold for another few seconds.’ Miryam said calmly, turning to Jenne and speaking in a much quieter voice. ‘Jenne, my girl, come and help me. The baby’s gotten tangled in the cord.’

‘What?!’ Y/N was seized in panic. ‘Are they alright? Is the baby alright?’

‘Y/N, that is a normal occurrence.’ Miryam assured her and patted her knee. ‘But you need to stay calm and be very still so the little one doesn’t strangle; is that understood?’

‘Yes, okay.’ Y/N pushed her head back into Oberyn’s shoulder. She continued the breathing exercise Miryam had shown her and tried not to picture the horrible possibility of her child choking to death. She wanted for the pain to be over, but most importantly she wanted her baby alive and well in her arms. 

‘All will be well, my love. I promise you.’ Oberyn kissed her temple. ‘Just a little more.’

‘Good, dear child.’ Miryam praised. ‘Now when I say I want you to push just a little so they baby’s shoulders can come out. Okay, now.’ Y/N closed her eyes, willing all of the remaining strength in her body to allow her another push. ‘Good, very good. One shoulder out. Here comes the second one. Just another push, Your Highness. That’s right.’

Y/N let out one last yelp of pain as she felt Miryam pull the baby out of her. She let her head fall down against Oberyn’s shoulder as she panted, completely exhausted. There was a moment of stillness, her eyes still closed shut. But before she could ask if the baby was alright, she was startled by the tiniest little cry that filled the room. Oberyn was right, it really was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard in her life. Y/N opened her eyes to see Miryam holding a little form in her arms. The baby was covered in a thin layer of of blood and other unknown fluids, but looked so well. ’Congratulations, You Highness. You have a healthy little boy.’

‘A boy?’ Y/N gasped, smiling at the child in the old woman’s arms. ‘Oberyn.’ She called her husband and looked up to find him silently staring at their child in reverence. His eyes moved down to find Y/N’s and the two smiled at each other. ‘Oberyn, we have a son.’

Oberyn huffed our a laugh of disbelief, not caring about the tears that were freely falling from the corners of his eyes.

Jenne helped Miryam cut the cord and the midwife placed the tiny little baby on top of Y/N’s chest. She gasped as she felt the delicate buzz of the skin-to-skin contact and her heart fluttered with joy. Her breathing began to normalise as she cradled her son to her breast. 

‘ _Our son_ , our baby boy,’ she whispered to Oberyn who pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. His hand came to rest on top of one of Y/N’s which was cupping the baby’s back and bottom. The two remained still, watching him take little breaths of life. ‘He’s so small,’ Y/N said quietly, ‘Our little viper.’

Oberyn chuckled, ‘He comes of vipers _and_ doves, my love. Our little prince.’

Miryam gave one last instruction for Y/N to push, pulling the cord and placenta out of her womb. This time the feeling was more one of discomfort and less so of pain which was appreciated since Y/N’s entrance ached horribly. But she couldn’t care less, her baby was here and _he_ was well. Miryam told her that she should call upon a wet nurse to feed the child, but Y/N cut her off — without even uttering a word — by pulling the fabric of her dress which covered her breast, and placing the tip of her nipple against her son’s upper lip. The baby seemed to instinctively know what to do; his mouth opened, sucking onto his mother’s bosom and his tiny hands came up to rest upon her skin. 

‘My darling little angel,’ she whispered. 

‘I, honest to the Gods, expected another daughter,’ Oberyn jested, earning himself an elbow to the ribs. Not too hard, of course; Y/N couldn’t imagine hurting her husband, nor disturbing her son’s peace.

‘What shall we call him, my love?’ Oberyn asked and Y/N looked up at him. She smiled at her husband and took his chin between her fingers, bringing him down for a delicate kiss. 

‘I would imagine that the name Salvador would fit him quite well, don’t you think?’ Y/N pondered aloud. Oberyn smiled and kissed her once more, wrapping his arms around his wife, enveloping her and their son in a protective embrace. 

The family was left alone; Miryam and Jenne wanted to give the family a few moments of quietude. They excused themselves out of the chamber with a couple of wishes of good fortune and congratulations for their little one. 

‘Salvador it is then,’ he spoke softly, his thumb raising to softly caress the crown of his son’s head, ‘Salvador Nymeros Martell. Welcome into the world, my dear son.’

* * *

_2 months later_

Y/N was woken up by quiet chatter in the middle of the night. She shuffled in bed and upon finding Oberyn’s side of the bed empty, her eyes slowly opened.

Moonlight was streaming through the windows, washing the room in pale silver light. The crickets played their nightly tune outside in the gardens, filling the air with a quiet chirp that entered the chamber.

Near the exit to the balcony was Salvador’s cradle and Y/N found her husband standing beside it rocking from side to side, talking in a hushed voice. She got up form bed and slowly made her way to the two of them.

‘And then your Mama appeared and she was the prettiest woman in all of the Seven Kingdoms,’ Oberyn quietly spoke to his son who was watching him with wide eyes. Salvador’s mouth turned up in a toothless grin as he giggled at his dad’s words, waving his tiny hands above his head. ‘Yes, my dear son. And we tell her so every day lest she forget it, is that a deal?’

‘What are the two of you concocting behind my back?’ Y/N jokingly asked, wrapping her arms around Oberyn’s middle. He grinned down at her and moved his head to plant a delicate kiss on her temple. 

‘He was being fussy and I thought a nice tale about pretty princesses would do him good,’ Oberyn explained. He looked down at Salvador who recognised his mother’s face and let out a tiny squeal of delight. 

‘Hello, my little viper,’ Y/N cooed and Oberyn handed him to her, standing behind his wife. He let his hands gently rest upon her shoulders, watching the two interact. Salvador started making little grabbing motions with his hands at Y/N’s chest. She scoffed, ‘You are indeed your father’s son.’

Oberyn mock gasped but remained otherwise silent as he watched his wife pull down the collar of her night shift, exposing her right breast and lifting Salvador closer so he could feed. Oberyn let his head drop, his chin resting against her shoulder. His arms moved down and wrapped around Y/N’s waist pulling her flush against his body. 

‘He’s so sweet when he’s feeding,’ Y/N murmured. ‘He’s sweet in every way to be completely frank.’

‘I agree,’ Oberyn replied. ’Perhaps… perhaps he’d be even sweeter with another little brother? Or a sister?’

Y/N laughed quietly, shaking her head in disbelief. She grinned at her husband, pecking him on the lips. ‘Are you not satisfied with eight children, my prince?’

‘The number nine is my favourite,’ he said matter-of-factly, ‘and they consider it a very lucky number.’

Y/N hummed through a tiny smile, ‘I will consider it.’

‘Thank you,’ Oberyn grinned, hugging his wife closer to his chest. ‘I love you, my dove.’

‘And I love you,’ Y/N leaned her head to the side to softly bump against Oberyn’s, ‘my viper.’

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated! x


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